Stolen Souls
by Shuggie
Summary: AU Sirius Black is one of the young heroes of the Ministry Aurors and the mysterious Order of the Phoenix. However, his family and the Death Eaters want him back on their side. When their plot succeeds, the Wizarding world is turned upside down.
1. A Dark Plan

**Disclaimer: The characters and settings from Harry Potter all belong to JK Rowling. Any such that you do not recognize belong to me. This story is highly AU, with bits and pieces from the actual series incorporated in. **

**EDIT: Recently, I have gone through all of the chapters and done some editing. I can't be sure that I have fixed all spelling/grammatical errors. Some parts have been increased in length, and some have been shortened. The basic plot of this story has not changed, and to anyone who has been reading prior to now will not have necessarily missed anything new. However there has been a few name changes for some original characters (see author's note in the beginning of chapter 41 for exactly who). These changes still do not affect the plot.**

**Please enjoy this story and please, review. **

* * *

**Chapter 1**

A cool breeze blew over the cliffs where Sirius Black sat. The former heir to the most powerful wizarding family in Britain sighed heavily as he watched the waves roll hundreds of feet below him. He shivered a bit, almost wishing he had had the foresight to bring a cloak. The young man's eyes narrowed as thoughts raced through his head. He was stuck in the middle of a war he—and every other sensible person in England—wished had never begun. Sirius almost damned his inability to sit back and let others fight. But Sirius was a noble, brave man. He could never really do something like that. Sirius was a fighter; he had gone into the Auror program the day after he had graduated. Even James had laughed at him, telling his friend to give himself a small vacation.

But Sirius knew too well the things of which Dark wizards were capable. He had seen it since he was a young child. And now, here he was, almost twenty-one years old and a high ranking member of the Order of the Phoenix and the Auror Department's rising star. Sirius had never felt as though he'd had a place in his family. When James and the others had become his family, Sirius had vowed to do all that he could to keep them safe. And then Harry had been born. Sirius loved that kid more than his own life. As the baby's godfather, it was Sirius's responsibility to protect him and his parents. Although Sirius loved Harry like his own son, he never wanted to have to take custody of the child.

A pop sounded from behind Sirius to his right, and, although Sirius would normally have leapt to defensive, he knew it was just James; he could feel it. The two shared a remarkable bond. Their friends loved to joke that it was really Lily who was the third wheel. The other man plopped down beside him, running a hand through his hopeless hair. "Hey, Padfoot," he said with a grin.

"Prongs," Sirius returned. The two men sat in comfortable silence for several minutes. James was clinging his jacket close to him. He never did like the cold much, Sirius mused.

"So, what are you doing up here," James asked.

Sirius drew in a deep breath. "Just thinking."

James raised a dark brow. "Care to share? You can tell me anything, you know."

Ever the smart ass, Sirius said cheekily, "What if I told you that Lily and I were having an affair?"

"Then I'd knock your lights out," James laughed.

Sirius gave a small smile. "It's Mother," he said bitterly.

James's jaw slacked. "Again," he cried. "Jesus Christ, does she ever give it up?" Sirius turned and stared pointedly at James with his dark eyes. "Right, dumb question."

"Very," Sirius said loftily. He let out a small snort. "She sent Narcissa this time."

James let out a low whistle. "That's low even for her." Sirius nodded. Usually, when his mother tried to get him to come back to the family, she sent Bellatrix. Bella was the eldest sister and his mother's favorite relative. Bella was harsh, haughty, and forceful. Narcissa, the youngest, tended to be more weepy. Narcissa wanted Sirius back in the family, but not to use in the war as the rest of them. Narcissa had a very set view of family, and Sirius leaving them disrupted it greatly.

The Blacks were deeply involved with Lord Voldemort's dealings. Bella, her husband Rodolphus and his brother Rabastan, Regulus, and Narcissa's husband Lucius were all Death Eaters. Before his death the previous year, Sirius's father had made large financial contributions to the cause.

Although Andromeda considered herself neutral, Sirius was the only family member who had joined the other side of the war. And he was good at what he did. His family and the Dark Lord had noticed. Sirius had lost count long ago of all the times his life had been threatened. The Blacks were making more and more frequent attempts to bring him home. On her last visit, Bella had threatened to blast the Potters' home to the ground if he refused her. Sirius had just laughed and reminded her that their home was almost as old as the Black one and had just as many magical protections.

"Well," James said rising and brushing grass from his pants, "Lily demands that you join the family for dinner, and Harry hasn't stopped yelling Pafoo since the last time you were over, which was just this morning, mind you." James gave a longsuffering sigh. "You have successfully infiltrated my home, you realize?"

Standing, Sirius said, "Prongs, you can't blame Harry for loving me more, or me for being better than you."

"You better than me," James cried aghast.

Slyly, Sirius said, "Yeah, that's what Lily says too." Before James could jump him, Sirius Apparated to Godric's Hollow.

Sirius ran into the house a few seconds ahead of James and leaned heavily on the door in attempts to keep his friend from entering his own home. James began to bang loudly on the door and scream commands for Sirius to allow him entrance. Lily walked into the entryway, Harry balanced on her hip. She offered Sirius a very odd look, and he grinned widely back at her. "Why, good evening, Lily, my dear. And Harry!" The baby began to gurgle and reach for his godfather.

"What are you doing, Sirius," she asked, trying to arrange her face into a stern frown. Her eyes were shinning with amusement, completely negating the effect.

"Preventing James from getting his hands on me," Sirius answered calmly as James began to fling his body on the door, magic forgotten.

"And why," Lily asked slowly, "would he being trying to get a hold of you so desperately?" Sirius raised his brows in a silent answer. Lily sighed. "You didn't tell him that we were having an affair again, did you?"

"In so many words," Sirius replied.

Lily rolled her bright eyes. "Oh, why do I bother with either of you?"

"Because you love us, myself in a more platonic fashion and James because he fathered your child," Sirius provided as James rammed the door so hard he almost went flying. Deciding James was likely getting mad by now, Sirius leapt from the door and plucked Harry from Lily's arms and hid behind her.

James came plowing through the door, which amazingly did not break off its hinges, and stood fuming at Sirius. He almost made to lunge for him, but then he noticed that he would have to get through his wife and son to tackle his friend. Sirius peaked out from behind Lily. "You also can't blame Lily for being attracted to someone as devastatingly handsome as I am."

"Conceded much," Lily asked as she walked away and into the kitchen. Sirius looked like a deer caught in the headlights, but quickly held up Harry for James to see. "Food's ready, boys, so put your testosterone war on hiatus, James. Remember I sleep in your bed, not Sirius's."

"She just takes cat naps in my bed," Sirius added.

"Sirius!" Lily snapped from the other room. "I'll stop defending you."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

The front door of the Black Manor clicked shut. From her study, Walburga Black frowned as she poured over documents. Since the death of her husband nearly a year ago, she had taken upon herself the responsibility of handling the family's matters. She inwardly cursed her elder son. This was supposed to be his job. But no! He just had to listen to the fool of a headmaster of his. He just had to break away. Impudent Gryffindor! Her younger son Regulus might have been able to take up this task, but he was not as prepared for it as Sirius was. From the moment of his birth, Mrs. Black and her husband had prepped him to become head of the family. Regulus's lessons had never been as strict as his brother's.

Amazing how Regulus was so acceptable while Sirius had turned blood traitor. A soft knock sounded, and Walburga said sharply, "Enter." Her youngest niece, Narcissa, regally walked into the room. Narcissa was an acceptable girl. She had done her duty to her family by marrying a respectable man—a Malfoy at that—and bearing him a son. Narcissa was a perfect lady and a smart girl. Of course, she was no Sirius.

Again Walburga cursed the boy. Always she was comparing others, especially in the family, to him. Her son was brilliant, strong, courageous, loyal, passionate, and could be quite shrewd. He was probably the most handsome member of the family. He would have been the prefect head of the family. Well, except for the fact that he was a Gryffindor. But even that egregious flaw could be overlooked if he only he would apply himself properly.

"Well," Walburga asked impatiently. Narcissa shook her head.

"He will not come back to us, Aunt," she said sadly. "He is loyal to Dumbledore and his friends."

Had Walburga not been a lady, she would have growled. She stood from her desk and began to pace about the room. This was indeed becoming a great dilemma. If the boy kept this behavior up, he would likely be killed. The Dark Lord did not appreciate Sirius's efforts against him. When his takeover became final, Sirius would die. It was a waste of a nearly perfect specimen of a human.

They could not let it happen. It would be unfortunate indeed for the Black family to irreversibly loose such a treasure.

"Aunt Walburga," Narcissa asked, "what will we do?"

Walburga turned to her young niece. "Do not fret, my dear," she said with a sugary voice. "A solution will present itself. We will get my son back, and our family will be whole once again." Narcissa smiled. Neither of them mentioned Narcissa's older sister Andromeda. Her offense was far too great.

After a few seconds of silence, Walburga commanded, "Go and fetch me your sister. Together, we shall devise a plan." Narcissa bowed her head respectfully and left the study.

Walburga turned her attention to a small photograph of her two sons. They were young, Regulus only four, Sirius just a year older. They were in their best holiday robes. Regulus was looking about the room, but Sirius's cold, dark eyes remained fixed to the lens of the camera. He stood calm and lofty above his younger brother.

In another photograph, this one of all the children, the girls were all holding hands. Bella was her normal haughty self, Andromeda and Narcissa offering each other the smallest of smiles, Sirius kept looking off to the side as if awaiting a chance to escape, and Regulus was squirming with boredom, wanting to get back to his mother.

Walburga's dark eyes then turned to the large oil painting of her family. She and her husband were at the back, standing tall, regal and proud. Regulus's face was emotionless, as Walburga had taught him to keep it. Sirius, however, looked miserable. Well, Walburga admitted, miserable to her trained eyes. Anyone else might not have caught the look the heir was giving. She remembered how furious she had been when the painting had been delivered. She had screamed at him for hours. Regulus had kept a straight face, why couldn't he?

"Oh, my little Sirius," she said to herself. "Where did we go wrong with you?" Her eyes flittered over the one picture of her son of which she was proud. He was sixteen, just before he ran away to live with the blood traitor Potters, and dressed in his finest robes. He looked incredibly bored with what was going on around him, like he was above it all. That was the kind of attitude she had been trying to establish in him all his life. This was what was acceptable.

Walburga smiled. "It won't matter soon, my son. You'll be back with me."

* * *

"Rise, Bellatrix," the high, cold voice said.

Bellatrix Lestrange removed herself from the ground, standing tall and proud. Her dark robes flowed around her feet as she took a few steps closer to the high throne-like chair where the Dark Lord Voldemort sat. His red eyes blazed as he stared into her dark grey ones. Bella smiled at him in a manner no other dared. This was perhaps because no one else was so loyal to him. Bella had, from the moment she met the Dark Lord, been blinded by love and devotion towards him. He was her everything, in ways above and beyond any other in her life. She would do anything he ever asked of her and more. She desired only his pleasure, his touch, and his acceptance.

"You have something to report?"

"Unfortunately nothing of extreme importance, my Lord," she said regretfully. "My little cousin still refuses to return to us. My aunt sent my sister Narcissa to speak with him, but she was unsuccessful. Aunt Walburga is becoming very anxious about this situation. She wishes dearly to have him back with us, as a servant to you, my Lord."

Voldemort nodded slowly as the woman spoke. He stroked his wand, which Bella eyed warily. He could point it at her at any second, and Bella loved the Unforgivables, but not when they were being used upon her. And the Dark Lord's curse was more powerful than most. "Indeed that would be an asset," he said softly. "Sirius Black in my armies. Your cousin has shown exceptional skills, despite his young age."

Bella bowed her head. "Sirius is very bright, my Lord. He has always shown great potential."

"Yes," he hissed. "Dumbledore, I believe, relies greatly on the boy's powers and reputation."

Bella sneered. Indeed, her cousin had quite a reputation. When he had enrolled into the Auror program, people had laughed aloud. A Black as an Auror? It seemed the highest form of rubbish. However, Sirius, to those who knew him, had long ago proven his extreme dislike for Dark wizards and magic. The ferocity with which he threw himself into his training had shocked many, and he had climbed up the power ladder quickly. Now, having succeeded on numerous seemingly impossible missions, he was seen as a hero. He and James Potter were the young champions of this war. Everyone knew of their exploits although Sirius, as a more public figure, had a more flamboyant reputation than James. Yes, her dear cousin seemed to have a knack for success.

"I'm sure this does frustrate your aunt deeply," Voldemort continued. "To have spent such efforts on the boy only to have them thrown back in her face. A shame." Bella nodded in fierce agreement. Sirius had shamed them all with his choices. "Indeed something must be done about this. Bella," he barked. The dark woman stood straighter. "I don't care how you do it, but I want Sirius Black in my army."

"Yes, my Lord," Bella bowed low.

"Go," he commanded. "And do not fail me."


	2. Captured

**Chapter 2**

"We've lost the Longbottoms," Dumbledore said gravely. Several jaws belonging to the higher ranking members of the Order of the Phoenix slacked or dropped. Lily Potter's hands flew to her mouth, and she buried her face in her husband's shoulder. Alice had been a year above her in school, but they had been very close.

James wrapped his arms around Lily. He looked over her bright hair at Sirius, who was frowning deeply. Sirius was an Auror and had teamed up with the Longbottoms on more than one mission. Sirius's stony face was all that James needed to know that Sirius had already heard the news.

James pressed his lips together. The Longbottoms had a son, an infant just a day older than Harry. Neville, James was sure was the boy's name. Poor kid. Not even a full year old and an orphan.

"Frank and Alice," McGonagall whispered. She had, of course, taught both. "They're gone?"

"Gone? No," Dumbledore said. Several brows raised, and Lily jerked her head up looking livid.

"Don't dare joke!" she said harshly. "You just said–"

Dumbledore held up a long fingered hand and said, "Lost, Lily, my dear. Frank and Alice are not dead, but they are permanently out of commission. They have been tortured to insanity." Several of the women gasped. Before anyone could ask, Dumbledore answered, "The Lestranges, supposedly."

James's hazel eyes flickered over to Sirius. Usually the mention of a member of his family caused a deep frown to etch itself onto his face. But to hear how two of them had destroyed the lives of friends...Sirius was livid. His grey eyes were so narrowed, James wondered if he could see at all. His hands, clenched into tight fists, were hidden under the table.

"What did they do," Lily asked in a bated whisper.

In a snappish voice, Sirius said, "Do you even have to ask, Lily? You know what Bella's favorite spell is." Lily locked her bright eyes with Sirius's. The other occupants of the room were looking closely at the former Black heir with pity in their eyes. They all knew how much he hated his family, he had made that very clear the first meeting at which Bellatrix had been brought up. Some still winced at the memory. James reached up to squeeze Sirius's shoulder. They didn't need another scene tonight.

Dumbledore spoke again, determined to prevent another such occurrence. "We have lost two very important members, but we need to remember that we have not lost everything. Although people are dying around us everyday, there is still hope for us." His eyes flickered briefly in the direction of the three close friends. "And we must keep that hope."

A few days later, James Apparated to the cliffs above the sea once again to find his best friend sitting in the cool grass, wearing no over cloak, and watching the waves crash beneath him. He shook his head. Sirius was coming up here more and more often. And whatever mutterings James could get from Sirius–which were becoming harder to come by–always involved his family. James was not a stupid man by any means. He could put two and two together. The Blacks were more determined than ever to get Sirius and were capable of extreme means. He couldn't imagine what all they were threatening him with. At first, Sirius had laughed about all this. There was nothing in the world that would make him betray his friends. But lately, Sirius couldn't even manage a snarky comment about the futility of his family's mission.

James knew that Sirius would never turn, but he was worried.

"Hey, mate," James said, taking his place beside his friend. Sirius said nothing. Again–like every other time–they sat in silence until James found it high time to end the brooding. "Lily's got supper on," he said. "You're invited, not that you really need an invite."

"No," Sirius said, and James stared at him quite blankly. When had Sirius Black ever refused to spend even two minutes with the Potters?

"No," James choked back.

Sirius shook his dark head. "I spend too much time with you lot. It was all fine when we were in school. I should have started to back off when you and Lily got engaged and especially when you got married. You're a family now. You've got a son. I'm not part of that. You need time to yourselves." He trailed off.

And then James promptly slapped him across the back of the head. Ignoring the curse and glare Sirius threw at him, James said, "Get over yourself, Black. Since our first year at school you've been like a brother to me. My parents adopted you in all but the paperwork. Even we were both wandering around Hogwarts with our egotistical heads inflated to the size of a giant's, Lily still managed to think you were almost as darling as Remus. That still makes no sense to me, seeing as you are nothing like Moony. At all. Ever. And Harry adores you more that me, his father. Since when have you not been family?

Sirius blinked back at him for a few seconds before turning his dark gaze back to the crashing waves. Apparently, he wasn't in the mood for anything sentimental. James snorted and continued, "Sirius, you're my best mate, and you always will be. I trust you with my life and the lives of my family. Besides, if you don't come to dinner, Lily will Apparate out here. Do you really want that?"

Finally, Sirius cracked a smile. "Some times I come away unscathed."

"Not likely this time, mate," James said lightly. "It's–you know–_that_ time." Sirius winced. _That_ time was never a time to mess with Lily Potter. She would likely turn him in to a giant slug with purple boils and then add on a few tentacles for show. And then she would drag him to the dinner table anyway, stand over his chair, and watch him eat her meal until he was happy about it and damned grateful that she took the time to feed him. James smiled widely and stood brushing grass from his pants. "You coming?"

Sirius did not move but said, "Yeah, I'll be there in a few minutes. Go on without me."

"You'll likely have two before Lily comes screaming," James said as he flicked his wand and disappeared. Sirius, after the pop that signaled James's Disapparation, turned his head slightly and smiled. What would he do without James? In fact, what would he be?

Oh, Sirius knew exactly what he would be. His mother's lapdog. And she would have given him over to Voldemort years ago. Sirius would have continued to wallow in the narrowminded view that only purebloods were worthy of life. He would have hated people like Lily and Remus. He would be in charge of the family, dictating the members' lives as he pleased.

Indeed without James Potter, Sirius Black would be an arrogant, prejudice Death Eater, not unlike Lucius Malfoy or Severus Snape.

Sirius shook his head. Thank God. He stood and brushed loose pieces of grass from his pants. He should be going. Lily would be getting impatient, and he hadn't seen Harry in almost a week now, a definite record.

As he lifted his wand, he heard a humorless giggle. "Going somewhere, my dear," asked a painfully familiar voice. Sirius turned himself over to his instincts. He spun sharply, a jet of red light flying from his wand in a large arch. Bellatrix was ready for him. A flick of her wand knocked his spell away. She thrust forward, the Cruciatus spearing towards him. Sirius dove to the side, coming up in a crouch and flinging a Body Bind. Bella blocked again.

She Apparated behind him, curses flying from her lips. A fleeting voice in Sirius's head yelled at him to Disapparate. He would be safe at the Potter's home. Sirius dismissed the thought as he slashed at his cousin. He was no coward. He wouldn't run away from this fight.

"_Reducto!_" The ground at Sirius's feet exploded. The force sent him flying. His back crashed into a tree, and his vision swam. Bella began to laugh, and Sirius was suddenly locked into place, thick cords wrapping around his body. He cursed.

Bella flicked her wand, and Sirius's feet flew out from beneath him. He crashed to the ground with great force, his fingers losing the grip on his wand. Bella stood above him, a nasty smile stretched over her thin lips as the sea breeze blew her hair wildly around her head. She reached down and plucked Sirius's wand from the ground and held it to her side. Another dark robed figure appeared and reached out to pocket it. Sirius looked up at them with immense contempt. The blond hair was dead giveaway. Sirius lashed out at them with his feet. A nice blow to their kneecaps would put a smile on his face. Malfoy reacted first, flicking his wand and sending Sirius's legs crashing into the ground forcefully.

"Good, Lucius," Bella said, her voice heavily laced with authority. "Go now and tell the Master that we have him." Malfoy Disapparated.

"Bellatrix," Sirius growled.

"Now, now," Bella said lightly as she gagged him with a bored flick of her wand. "There is no need for that. And struggling will do you no good either, cousin," she added as he began to squirm against his bonds, which only became tighter. It didn't stop his attempts to escape, but he could feel the ropes beginning to cut off blood flow. She smiled down at him, but it was not sincere. "You are too easy to predict, dear," she said.

Sirius could only narrow his eyes at her. "You come here after each time we meet, Sirius," she said. "Each and every time." She shook her head. "A mistake, to be sure. An opening for enemies."

She looked away towards a thick set of bushes. "Come out, sweetheart." The bushes rustled, and soon another figure came to stand beside Bella. Sirius gritted his teeth at the sight of his younger brother. Regulus glared back down at him. "Yes," Bella said fondly, "All dear Regulus had to do was to come here while I confronted you. He hid himself well and waited to attack you at my cue. Oh, Sirius, when will you learn?"

Sirius would have very much liked to spit in her face.

"Take him, Regulus," Bella commanded, and Regulus flicked his wand, causing his brother to levitate in the air, still heavily bonded. Bella sneered at him. "The Dark Lord requests an audience with you."

When they Apparated, Sirius found himself in front of the gates to a dark and dank manor. It was not very well kept, quite unlike the Potters' home, Malfoy manor, or even Grimmauld Place. Two heavy set wizards stood just outside the front gates and stood in erect attention at the sight of Bellatrix Lestrange. Bella swept past them, Regulus in her wake, and Sirius floating in between.

Lucius Malfoy met them in the main hall. "The Dark Lord will see you immediately," he said. Bella nodded and held up her skirts as she ascended the creaking staircase. They walked down a dark hall lit only by the occasional candle. The air was stale and most disgusting to Sirius's nostrils. They soon reached a dark wooden door with a snake carved into the center. Bella stopped in front of it and adjusted her robes and hair before knocking.

"Enter," a high, cold voice said, muffled slightly through the thick wood. Bella grasped the silver handle and turned. The heavy door opened slowly, and Bella and Regulus entered bowing. Sirius's heart rate sped up, the organ thudding uncomfortable in his chest, but other than that, he showed no signs of fear as his eyes beheld the Dark Lord Voldemort.

The older man sat lazily in his great throne-like chair, black cloak spread around his feet and hood drawn around his face. Of that white face, nothing could be seen in the shadows of the hood and dark room, but two red eyes blazed bright as day. Two white, skeletal hands protruded from the folds of the large sleeves, one draped languidly over the armrest, and the other lightly drumming with thin fingers. Somewhere behind the throne, Sirius could hear the low hiss of a snake.

"Ah," the cold voice said. "Sirius Black." The head hidden under the hood shifted slightly. "You have done well, dearest Bella." Bellatrix positively beamed up at the Dark Lord. "And you as well, young Regulus. You will both be rewarded for this service." Both bowed lower. "Now, leave us."

Both scrambled to do Voldemort's bidding, and as soon as the door shut behind him, Voldemort flicked his wand. Sirius was sent tumbling to the ground. He held in a muffled cry of pain as he landed oddly on his arm. With another flick, the bonds trapping Sirius disappeared. Sirius ripped the gag from his mouth and rushed to a standing position, struggling slightly against the tingling in his arms and legs as the blood began to flow properly again.

Voldemort did not move as he studied the young man before him. Sirius, determined to not die a coward, held his gaze firmly. After a few minutes, Voldemort shifted forward in his throne, bringing the bottom half of his skull-like face into view. He was smirking. "Sirius, Sirius," he said as if chastising a young child who had tracked mud on the carpet again.

Sirius narrowed his stormy eyes, and his body tensed. He did not dare remove his gaze from the imposing form of Voldemort, not even to attempt to find a means of escape. There wouldn't be one, and a fraction of a second would be all it took. If Sirius kept his stare fixed on Voldemort, there would at least be a chance to dodge a curse, a chance to live defying him for a few more seconds. It was all he could ask for at this point.

"Bella has come to you many times now," Voldemort said, still in that same tone that made Sirius's teeth grind. "She wants you to come back with her. Your mother does miss you something terrible, I hear." Under normal circumstances, Sirius would have snorted or laughed. "And Bella has told you of the spot in my army you would hold, should you return. Yet, for some strange reason I cannot comprehend, you refuse."

"Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you're all a lot of dicks."

"Now, now, Sirius, cheek will get you nowhere tonight," Voldemort tusked. "Neither will refusing my offers. I have been very patient with you thus far, Sirius. Is it wise to try that patience further?"

"What do I care," Sirius snapped. "You have none of my loyalty, none of my reverence. I'm not one of your stupid little pawns."

Voldemort shook his head. "Most unwise, that is," he said in a mockingly sorrowful voice. He raised his wand, as if displaying it to a judge. "I could destroy everything you hold dear with the simplest flick of my wand." And he did just that.

The spell hit Sirius, and the young Auror collapsed to the ground struggling—but not succeeding—to hold in screams of pain. He bit down hard on his lip to hold it in and could taste blood. As he shook on the floor, Sirius clenched his fists. He had been through this before. He could do it again. But it still never made the pain any easier...It felt like a small eternity. When would this end?

The spell lifted, and Sirius panted heavily from his position on the floor. Slowly, he drew himself to his feet, wiping some of the flowing blood from his chin.

"Get through Dumbledore," Sirius challenged through his teeth. The smirk left Voldemort's face, and he stood from his throne. There was a flash of red, and the spell was upon Sirius again. It was longer this time. When it was finally lifted, blood was pouring from both Sirius's nose and lip. He struggled to stand. His legs were trembling, and his shoulder throbbed from its odd landing. How he had regained his footing, he didn't know. Voldemort's curses were so much more powerful than any others he'd been hit with. His throat was raw from screaming.

"Let me ask you one last time," Voldemort said softly. "Will you join my army, as my loyal servant?"

Taking a deep breath, Sirius stared Voldemort squarely in the eye. His heart was hammering in his ears, and the faces of those he loved flying past his mind's eye…Remus, Peter, Lily, Harry, and James. He could never betray them. He'd rather spend a thousand years in hell than have it suggested. Those people who flew through his mind as he locked eyes with the most feared Dark wizard in a hundred years, they were what mattered. The Prophesy Lily and James told him about…Sirius had to protect Harry, not just for Harry's own sake, but the sake of the entire wizarding—and Muggle—world. If Sirius let Voldemort get to Harry, that would be it. Dumbledore said Harry was the only one who could end this. Sirius hated to think of what Harry would be facing. But everyone had a destiny. And if this was Sirius's, then so be it. He would gladly die protecting those he loved.

Sirius clenched his fists and could feel the sweat on his palms. This was it. His life, all his dedication and hard work, all his trials had led him to this: the chance to die with his head held high in the face of the devil himself.

Sirius narrowed his eyes, staring at the Dark Lord with the uttermost look of defiance. Hate radiated from his body at the sight of the shell of a man before him and what that man was asking, more like commanding, him to do. "No force in Heaven or Hell could make me join you," Sirius spat, holding up his head and looking with great contempt at the monstrous man down his nose.

Holding up his wand, Voldemort said, "Unfortunate, for you." There was a flash of light, and Sirius's world went black.


	3. A New Death Eater

**Chapter 3**

Lily held Harry tightly to her chest. The baby was squirming a bit, but she did not seem to notice much. James was pacing around the sitting room, as he had been for the past hour. "Are you absolutely sure he said he was coming," Lily asked for the fifth time.

James answered for the fifth time, as if Lily had never asked before, "Yes, he said he'd be right behind me."

Lily shifted her son to her other hip. "And it's not possible that he just went on home, right?"

"I already checked his flat," James said sharply. "He wasn't there, and he would have told us if he was going to bail out."

The fireplace roared with green flames, and Remus Lupin spun out, brushing ash from his robes as he came to a halt. James looked at him hopefully, but Remus shook his head. "He's not at any of the pubs," he reported.

James frowned deeply. He reached over to an armchair and snatched up his cloak. "I'm going to check the cliffs again."

"It's no good," Lily said. "You've gone there four times in the last hour. If he isn't there already, then he's not likely to appear." Lily took a deep breath and tried to maintain her calm persona. She was just as worried as the boys, but someone needed to be the voice of reason. "Now, why don't we call Peter? He's having a late night at the Ministry, isn't he? He can check to see if Sirius came into the office."

James scrambled for the fireplace. When Peter's face appeared in the flames, James wasted no time demanding that Peter check for Sirius's presence. Peter looked skeptical. "He usually passes this wing to get to his office," Peter said. "I'd have likely seen him if he walked by."

"Maybe you weren't paying attention," James snapped. "Go check, now!" Peter blinked and quickly disappeared. He came back a few minutes later and reported in the negative. James cursed and turned away from the fire, leaving Remus to be considerate enough to inform Peter of the situation.

"Well, couldn't you call Dumbledore," Peter asked after Remus had ended the short tale.

James whirled around. "What?"

"Dumbledore," Peter repeated. "Sirius might have gone up to Hogwarts to talk with him. That's not something unusual."

James's face lit up, and it seemed likely that he would have been able to bring himself to kiss Peter full on the lips. He was saved from further temptation by Peter kindly disconnecting the fire-call so James could contact Dumbledore immediately.

James's happiness was short lived. Dumbledore had not had Sirius as a visitor since the last Order meeting. James's worry was increased tenfold by the confused lines around the headmaster's eyes. "You say he was to come for dinner, but is now gone?" James nodded. "I will be honest with you, James. This is probably not good. Sirius would never leave you wondering where he was."

James swallowed thickly. "What are we going to do, Professor?"

Dumbledore looked at his former student with an expression that James did not like. "This I do not know."

* * *

Voldemort looked down in pleasure at the young man sitting on his floor. The young man's extremely handsome features were screwed up in utter confusion. He ran a hand through his silky, dark locks. Quickly, Voldemort set his plan into motion.

He knelt down beside him and said in a voice full of concern, "Sirius? Sirius, are you all right?"

The dark eyes turned to his red ones. "What?" he asked. "Who are you?"

Voldemort sighed in false frustration and clenched his fist. "Damn," he muttered. "Don't you remember anything?"

Sirius stared at him with a distrustful expression, and Voldemort was pleased. Sirius Black, he knew very well, had the tendency to distrust any and every being who had not proven itself to him. Since befriending James Potter and breaking away from the Black family, Sirius had only changed surficially. His aristocratic, pureblood core remained.

Voldemort released another heavy sigh. "It is I, Lord Voldemort, your master. Do you not remember me? Anything at all?" The dark eyes narrowed.

"Voldemort," he said slowly. "Voldemort...I know that name."

"Yes," Voldemort's cold voice hissed. "You should know it well. You are one of my most high ranking officers, after all."

"Officers," Sirius asked cautiously.

"Indeed," Voldemort said as he removed himself from the floor. "One of my best fighters, my most loyal Death Eater."

"Death Eater," Sirius tried the name on his tongue.

Voldemort nodded as he lowered his thin body into his throne. "Unfortunate, most unfortunate, that you cannot recall your service to me."

Sirius lifted himself from the floor. He swayed a bit but quickly gained his balance. "I am in your army, you say? And whom are we fighting?"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "Are you so sure that we are fighting at all?"

His face quite expressionless, Sirius replied, "You seemed a bit–shall I say concerned–that I do not recall you. Why would this matter so in a time of peace?"

"Indeed," Voldemort said, interlocking his fingers. "Correct as usual, Sirius. We are at war. We are at war with the blood traitor Albus Dumbledore and his foolish followers."

Sirius stared back at Voldemort as he had done minutes ago, however, without his memories, fear was absent from his eyes. "And how do I know that I am your servant?"

Voldemort raised a brow. He leaned forward. "What would make you think otherwise?"

Loftily, Sirius said, "Currently I am finding it quite impossible to recall any previous occurrences in my life. You could easily be lying to me."

Voldemort smirked. Indeed this boy was clever. He was staring right through the Dark Lord's lie, but he would never know it. Nonchalantly, Voldemort said, "Simply pull back your left sleeve. There the mark of my servants is branded into your skin."

As Sirius rolled up his left sleeve and stared at the Dark Mark imprinted darkly on his forearm, Voldemort's triumphant smirk grew. In the short moment that the Black boy had been unconscious, the Dark Lord had bestowed the Mark upon him and cast a pain nullifying charm. Sirius would have never been able to determine the length of time the Mark had adorned his skin.

He watched as Sirius ran his fingers lightly over the brand. His expression was difficult to read. Voldemort was impressed at how well Sirius was holding himself together. The boy had to be utterly confused at having awakened without a single memory, but he wasn't showing it. "If you still disbelieve me, you could glance at any other in my army. They all bear that Mark." Sirius did not say anything against him.

Leaning back in his chair, Voldemort said, "Your brother will bring you to a room so that you might rest." Sirius nodded. "Tomorrow morning you will return to your home, where your mother is anxiously waiting. You have been gone a long time, my boy."

"And might I ask where I was," Sirius inquired.

"It would do you no harm," Voldemort said. "You were captured by the Order of Phoenix on your last mission. We had almost thought you dead by now. Luckily, one of my spies found you, and our rescue mission was successful. You are quite lucky to have not sustained much physical injury. However, your memory is another story."

Sirius's eyes narrowed. "I should like very much to regain these lost memories."

Voldemort nodded. "As would anyone else. This is why I am sending you home. Perhaps there, with your family around you, recollections will return. And your return will benefit your mother most positively. Poor woman has been slaving over bonds for months."

Sirius raised a fine brow. "Ah, yes," Voldemort said with a casual wave of his hand. "You do not remember. You are a Black, Sirius." He continued at the sight of Sirius's brow rising higher still. "Yours is the most powerful wizarding family in Britain, and you are at the head since the death of your father a year ago."

Sirius's eyes widened slightly, but he quickly hid his emotions once again and nodded. Voldemort gestured to the door. "Go now, Regulus awaits you outside." Sirius turned and began to walk. "And Sirius?" The young man looked over his shoulder.

Voldemort's voice turned cold as it had ever been. "I have allowed slack behavior in you these past few minutes because you have lost your memory. But consider this your only warning: I am your lord, and you will refer to me as such from this moment on. The consequences will be dire if you are in any way disrespectful to me again."

For a few long seconds, Sirius did not answer or even move. Voldemort was sure he was about to have to curse the boy, but then the young man bowed at the waist and said, "Of course, my Lord." He opened the heavy wooden door and disappeared from the Dark Lord's view.

Voldemort smiled slyly in his throne. Finally. Finally he had ensnared Sirius Black, Dumbledore's little pet and the young hero of the light side. Sirius had gained quite a reputation in his few years as an Auror. Voldemort did not mind admitting to the incredibility of the young man's work. Sirius's decision to enter into the Auror training had first been viewed as suspicious. However, no one was able to deny the passion with which the boy fought against the Dark wizards and witches. The people had then viewed Sirius as heroic, a model to be looked up to. If he could break away from such a renowned Dark family and fight as he did, then there was hope. There was hope that the Dark could be overcome.

Voldemort just wished he could see the looks on the faces of the fools who believed such ideals. It would all be thrown in their faces. He had taken their hope with a wave of his wand. He had taken their hope and turned it into their nightmare. And how he did love a good nightmare!

The masses were fickle. They had been praising Sirius just this morning. When Voldemort revealed him as his greatest Death Eater, they would be cursing him. They would have to find a new hero. Who would it be this time? James Potter? Perhaps, James was just as outspoken against Voldemort as Dumbledore and Sirius, until a few minutes ago, of course.

Voldemort tapped a skeletal finger against his chin as he thought of James Potter and his mudblood wife. They were a powerful pair, experts in their own fields. The Potters had escaped his grasp on more than one occasion. They too would have been assets to his army. But Voldemort had abandoned that notion. Lily and James had brought into the world the one child who could destroy him. That was treason. He smirked. They would be dealt with sooner or later. For now, he would enjoy knowing what heartbreak they would feel thinking Sirius dead. Then he would unleash the boy, properly brainwashed. It would crush their souls. He reveled in it.

Fools, all of them. If they were doomed before, Voldemort did not want to think of what their chances were like now. He pictured the shocked faces of the Order fools when they saw their precious Sirius Black by his side in Death Eater robes, and he laughed.


	4. The Heir Returns Home

**Chapter 4**

Sirius stepped out of the Dark Lord's rooms silently. A man, just a few years younger than himself, stood waiting. This other man looked remarkably like Sirius. They had the same fair skin, cold grey eyes, and set jaw. Their hair was of the same black shade, although this other's had a slight wave to it. They had the same nose and ears and were with in two inches of the same height. This was Regulus...his brother.

Sirius studied Regulus. Although he had no prior memory of the man, their resemblance to each other was uncanny. Sirius felt...something...as he looked at him. Love? No, he decided with narrowed eyes. No, he did not feel love for this man who was his brother, but he did feel connected to him.

Regulus offered the older man a bow of his head and motioned that he should follow. Dark robes billowing behind him, Regulus journeyed down a dusty hall, Sirius a few paces behind. Sirius critiqued the hallway was they walked. Frankly, it disgusted him. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and were gathered in corners, and dust covered vases and tables like snow.

Regulus, a few moments later, opened a wooden door and held it open for his brother. Sirius stepped inside. The room was not in a condition much better than the hallway. Dust layered the floor and tables, and the curtains were turning into rags. The great mahogany bed might have at one time been impressive, but years of neglect had nearly left the sheets and posts in shatters.

And Sirius was expected to sleep here tonight?

He turned his stormy eyes to Regulus, one brow raised haughtily. Regulus did not register the motion; he merely bowed his head and shut the door, leaving Sirius alone. Sirius glared at the door. So much for his brother.

Sirius walked about the room, leaving foot prints in the dust gathered on the floor. He lingered at a bookshelf in the back corner. Nearly all the books, he noted, pertained to Dark magic. Many of the titles looked interesting, and Sirius made a mental note to read as many as he could. After all, if he was the most loyal Death Eater and such a high ranking member, it would be expected for Sirius to be an expert, wouldn't it? Sirius had no idea how much scholastic knowledge he had lost during his captivity.

A sharp knock came from the door, and Sirius's eyes jerked towards it. After a few seconds, he said, "Enter."

The heavy door creaked open and a woman entered. Although she appeared several years Sirius's elder, she was strikingly beautiful. Her dark hair flowed down her back in an ebony river, and her grey eyes–the exact shade as Sirius's–stared at him from under thick lashes. She was dressed in very fine robes and held herself in such a manner that Sirius might have mistaken her for royalty.

"Ah, dear Sirius," she said, her voice a mockery of kindness. Sirius said nothing but merely raised a brow. "Yes," she said softly, "the Dark Lord informed me that your memories had been stolen from you and that you would not recognize me. I am Bellatrix Lestrange, your older cousin." Sirius nodded slowly. Yes, this woman did bear resemblance to him, just as Regulus had.

"Master has sent me to inform you that you will return home in the early hours of the morning, seven at the very latest, I should think. We do not have your fine robes, so you will have to make do with–" she sounded a bit disgusted "–coarse work robes." Sirius did not say anything.

Bellatrix pulled her full red lips into a smile. "At any rate, cousin, your mother will be so pleased to see you. She has been beside herself since your disappearance." Sirius nodded, and Bellatrix offered him a look of confusion. "Have you nothing to say, cousin? For months you have seen no friendly face, none of your kin, and now, when you are finally back with us, you remain silent."

"What will you have me say, cousin," Sirius asked. "I know nothing about you. If you will recall, my memory escapes me."

"Indeed," Bellatrix said slyly. "Have you been told nothing?"

"The Dark Lord informed me that I am head of our family, and that our family is great."

"Not just great, Sirius," Bellatrix said. "We are pure. We are powerful. We are Blacks!" Her words did not stir much emotion in Sirius. She sighed in frustration. "The Dark Lord hopes that in your homecoming, some of your memories may return to you. At any rate, Aunt Walburga will be there to help you along. The Dark Lord wants you back on the front as soon as possible. If you are not recovering at a satisfactory rate, something will be done."

"And what would these actions be," Sirius asked darkly, eyeing her with distrust.

Bellatrix scoffed, "Don't even think of questioning the Dark Lord! You will take what he gives you, and you will take it with gratitude."

Sirius smirked. "Of course," he said. "We are here to serve him."

Bella's smile mirrored his own. "Indeed we are. I will leave you to rest now. Someone will come for you in the morning with fresh clothes."

Sirius sat down on the bed after his cousin had left the room. Considering he had been gone for such a long time and presumed dead, no one seemed too happy to see him. Sirius snorted. Ingrates. They should have been pleased to see him. He was in charge of the family, after all. He was their superior officer in the Dark Lord's army.

He scoffed. This man, this Dark Lord, Sirius was not entirely sure about his true thoughts of this man. Sirius certainly did not like the idea of bowing and humbling himself before some scrawny, pale man. He did not like that idea in the least. However, Sirius did not think himself a stupid man. That Dark Lord absolutely radiated power. It came off him in almost visible waves. Sirius would have had to be very stupid indeed to have challenged that. He was hiding it well, but he was still very confused about what all was going on. He didn't know the people around him, and he didn't know himself. It would perhaps be in his best interests to play along with them until he could make sense of things.

Sirius stood and walked over to the dusty bookshelf. He pulled a particularly dark looking work before heading back to his bed. He settled into the grungy blankets, but not before offering them a lofty look. He would be taking a very through shower when he returned home. Sirius opened the text, resolving to read for a few hours before attempting sleep.

* * *

Bellatrix slipped into the Dark Lord's chambers immediately after speaking to her cousin.

"Well, Bella," he asked in his cold voice.

The woman bowed lowly, and said, "It is as you predicted, Master. Without the ridiculous mutterings of those blood traitors in his head, he is a perfect pure-blood."

"Did he speak out against the filth?"

"No, Master," Bella admitted, "but his attitude was perfect. He was distrustful and haughty. Aunt Walburga will be very pleased when she sees him in the morning."

"Did he say anything we should be concerned of?"

"He momentarily questioned what actions you might take to ensure his 'proper' attitude, my Lord, but when I began to chastise him, he said that we were here to serve you."

The Dark Lord nodded. "Good," he hissed. "This will be an easier task than I thought. Sirius Black will make a most excellent addition to our cause."

"He is strong, Master."

"Yes," he hissed. "Bella, have you begun work on those false memories?"

"Of course, Master," she said. "I began as soon as you asked for them."

Voldemort nodded. "Good girl, Bella," he said with approval. "You are quite efficient, and that efficiency will make this task all the easier."

* * *

Sirius was awoken the next morning by someone knocking on his door. Sirius blinked rapidly and rubbed sleep from his eyes as a house-elf stepped into room. The small creature placed a set of simple robes on the foot of his bed and said squeakily, "If Master is needing so, a bath can be drawn for Master."

Sirius stared down at it and nodded slowly. Quickly, the elf disappeared into an adjacent room. Sirius could hear running water and pulled himself from the bed, throwing the book he had fallen asleep reading to the side. He entered the bathing room, the elf adjusting soaps and perfumes for him. "Master may get in when he pleases," it said, bowing low as it exited the room.

Sirius stripped of his dark clothing and stepped into the bath. The warm water felt relaxing on his stiff muscles. He leaned back and enjoyed the feeling of them loosening. Soon, however, someone began to rap sharply on the door. "Sirius! Get out. We will depart soon!" Sirius frowned at the door and the woman behind it. Reluctantly, he pulled himself from the water and grabbed a towel. He slipped into the black robes and exited the room.

Bellatrix was waiting for him. She surveyed him critically before beckoning him to follow her. The cousins walked regally through the halls and down to the first floor sitting room. A fire was blazing, and Bella grabbed a fist full of powder. She threw it into the flames, which then blazed green. "Black Manor!" she said before stepping into the blaze. Sirius followed her.

They emerged from a large and grandly decorated fireplace. Sirius barely had time to register the dark yet lavish sitting room before a woman dressed in black rushed into the room. "Sirius!" she exclaimed. Sirius studied the woman. He was not entirely sure but he believed she might be his mother. There was a sense of familiarity about her, although it was not entirely comforting. She came up to him, her long skirt trailing the floor. Her eyes narrowed as she stood before him. They trailed over his body, as if looking for something amiss.

Suddenly, she seemed very pleased. "My son," she said. Sirius nodded. Then she was his mother. She turned her dark eyes to her niece. "Good, Bella," she praised. "We finally have him back with us, away from the grasp of the mudbloods and blood traitors." She reached out a slender hand and took her son's. "Come now, son," she said with a smile that did not reach her eyes, "we will sit to breakfast and speak. It has been so long since I have seen you."

The woman led him down to the kitchens. Bellatrix did not follow. Whether she went back to the Dark Lord or to her own home or even just upstairs, Sirius did not know or particularly care. Sirius's mother snapped for a house elf to bring food before motioning to a chair for her son. An elf poured them goblets of wine and placed sweet bread before them. Mrs. Black watched him sip the wine.

After a few minutes, Sirius grew tired of the silence. "Of what shall we speak, Mother?"

The tiniest of smiles formed over the woman's lips. "Was Bella correct in informing me that your memories have been stripped from you?" Sirius nodded. "Filthy mudbloods," she said. "Removing those thoughts that are privately yours. Has anyone told you anything?"

Sirius lazily traced a finger over the rim of the goblet. "Supposedly I am head of our powerful family and one of the highest ranking officers of the Dark Lord's army." Walburga nodded. "And I am to attempt to regain myself here."

Walburga nodded slowly. "The Dark Lord wishes to make sure that, although you have lost your memories, you have not lost your mannerisms. I will see to it that you have not." Sirius nodded his head slightly to her. She stood. "But for now, I retire to my study. Kreacher!" Sirius looked down to see an old house elf hunch into the kitchen. "Kreacher will show you around the manor to re-familiarize you with it."

Sirius looked down at the creature with an air of slight contempt. It blinked up at him. "Ah, young master is back with us," it muttered. "Back and better than ever."

Sharply, Walburga said, "You have not been given permission to speak, elf. Hold your tongue." Sirius smirked at the elf's shocked expression. It nearly growled at him. Sirius followed Kreacher into the hall as Walburga went to her study. Bella was waiting for her, a small cauldron boiling. "How is it coming," Walburga asked after properly locking and silencing the room.

Bella smiled nastily. "Twenty false memories so far, Aunt," she said motioning to several small glass vials. "They range from anything from early lessons to the Sorting to battles against the Aurors."

Walburga nodded her head, "Good girl, Bella. The Dark Lord will be very pleased. We will slip one into his drink each night. They will not affect him immediately, correct?"

"Of course not," Bella scoffed as she stirred the potion. "He will not see the images until at least four hours after his drink is consumed." Walburga nodded. Her son was finally hers again. The blood traitors would never take him away again.

The next day, Sirius was set to training. His mother oversaw the mental aspects, while Bella worked with him in dueling. The two women had never been so proud of the young man. Bella noted with glee the fondness Sirius seemed to be taking towards the Unforgiveables. He was becoming more disgusted with Muggles by the day. Walburga could have wept for joy and wished her husband had lived to see his elder son fit to take over the family.

Regulus, while on one hand, was rather pleased to have his older brother home, felt twinges of jealousy. His mother had taken to gushing over Sirius nearly every minute of the day. Regulus knew it was likely wrong of him to feel so. After all, when Sirius had been unacceptable, it had been Regulus who she had praised. Sirius had been shunned then.

Perhaps, Regulus thought, it was unfair to say he himself was shunned. He was not being treated as Sirius had been years ago. He was still a good son in his mother's eyes. But now that Sirius was everything she had always wanted him to be, the elder had quickly taken over the position as the favorite child. Narcissa told Regulus to not concern himself with the turn of events. However, Regulus noted that she too was concerned about how Sirius had been brought back to the family. It was deceitful, not that was ever a problem to the Old Families. They had to be cunning to maintain their power. Narcissa, however, maintained that Sirius had made his choice long ago, and they were not honoring it. Regulus knew that she would get over that little setback soon enough. She was too excited about a full family again.

* * *

Headmaster Dumbledore shook his head from his position at the head of the table. The Order of the Phoenix members were locked in a heated debate. James Potter was being held back from physically attacking Severus Snape by Remus Lupin. "Prongs, calm down," the werewolf ordered.

"The cabbage won't listen to reason," James snorted, glaring nastily at his old school rival. Remus frowned.

"James," Dumbledore said. James offered Snape one last glare before settling back into his chair. "This pointless squabbling will get us nowhere. We must be united if we are to make any difference." The meeting continued on for another hour before Dumbledore finally released them.

James came up to the old man immediately, a look of worry etched over his young face. "Professor," he said, "I was wondering if there was any news—any at all—about Sirius."

Dumbledore sighed wearily. After each meeting, James came to him with the same question. And as much as it pained the headmaster, he was always given the same answer. "I'm sorry, James, but nothing at all has been seen of him." James cast down his hazel eyes. Hesitantly, Dumbledore placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder and softly said, "It's been almost five months, James. And as much as it pains my heart to say it, I don't think we will ever see Sirius again."

James's eyes flew up, blazing with fire. He stepped away from the old man. Furiously he hissed, "Don't say that. Don't ever say that! Sirius is a fighter. He wouldn't–he can't be–"

Dumbledore's normally bright eyes held no twinkle as he observed the dark haired man before him. James was shaking with anger, his breath coming in short, loud spurts through his nose. "I know he is," Dumbledore said. "But no matter how brave, how strong he is, he could only last so long against Voldemort."

"We don't even know if it was Voldemort," James nearly yelled. "Snape's brought no word of that."

"Just as there are plans and information that I have not shared with you, so too holds true for Voldemort regarding Severus." James pursed his lips together. Dumbledore lowered his gaze. "I am afraid that we will have to accept that Sirius is dead."

James did not say anything to him. He merely drew in a shuddering breath and turned on his heel, sweeping from the room, cloak billowing behind him.


	5. Unveiling At The Ball

**Chapter 5**

The room was almost completely dark save for three candles shining in the corner. Two figures were facing each other, one lounging in a stone throne, the other bowing low. The one in the throne had burning red eyes, which were fixed on the young man before him. "Tonight is the night, my servant," he hissed. The other bowed his head lower. "Due to your temporary inactive time, many among our enemy's ranks believe you to be dead."

"What a surprise awaits them," the servant said, his voice rich and deep.

"Indeed," the other said, white, skeletal hands stroking the long body of a snake. "You will take a squadron of our soldiers. I want the blood traitors to see you alone before the attack. Do this how ever you please."

"Of course, my Lord," the other said. "I will not fail you. At any cost, he will be taken down." The high, cold laughter of the Dark Lord filled the air.

* * *

James Potter walked into the Ministry of Magic Grand Hall, his wife Lily hanging on his arm. She smiled up at him and his sulking look. "Come off it, James," she said lightly. The redhead reached up and adjusted the tie of her husband's dress robes.

"Lily, I don't want to be here," James pouted.

"Well," Lily said, "I wasn't about to come alone. I could have asked Remus to come, you know. Like a date." She raised a brow and smirked.

James rolled his eyes. "You didn't need to come at all. Just think: right now we could be at home playing with Harry or watching the moving Muggle box or even bonding, shall I call it." James leaned down and pressed his nose to her cheek. Lily giggled rather girlishly and swatted him away when he moved to kiss her.

"We are in public, dear," she said. "And we can play with Harry any time, he's not going anywhere. Besides, I do happen to work in the Minister's office. I believe it would be the proper thing for me to do."

James pretended for a moment to be upset. Then he smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Fine, love, but you owe me." He wiggled his brows. Lily grinned and moved into his embrace. "Well," James said. "Let's not dilly about. Time to get this over with."

The young couple began to mingle with other Ministry personnel and their dates. Dinner was held in a brightly decorated room filled with tables. James and Lily sat with the Prewett brothers, Arthur and Molly Weasley, Alastor Moody, Emmeline Vance, and Dedalus Diggle. All were members of the Order of the Phoenix. Lily and Molly were talking about children. Lily was quite amazed that Molly had been able to punch out seven. She had thought she was dying when Harry was born.

Emmeline was flirting shamelessly with Fabian Prewett, who was going rather red around the ears at her attentions. Gideon was snorting into his goblet to hide his laughter. Arthur, Moody, and James were in a deep conversation about the war. "This is all rubbish," Moody growled in his usual manner. "A waste of time, money, and energy."

Arthur disagreed. "We need moments like this, Alastor. Otherwise we would be left with nothing but constant fear and paranoia, always looking over our shoulders, dreading coming home from work because of the chance that the Dark Mark is hovering over our roof."

"I'm not against a happy moment, Arthur," Moody countered. "But this is too lavish."

Arthur's brown eyes swept over the expansive decorations. "You've got it there."

"It's the hope they're trying to get out," James said. "Hope that we'll get through the war intact, that we'll live to have moments like this again without that fear in the back of our heads."

Lily suddenly squealed loudly. James turned to stare at her. She was staring off at nothing with a dreamy expression. Molly was attempting to cover a large grin with her hand. "That is just so darling," Lily said.

Molly quickly explained, "I was telling her about how the boys are reacting to Ginerva."

Lily put her hands to her cheeks and rocked her body to the side. She sighed out, "I want a baby girl." Then dropping her hands, she turned to stare at James expectantly. James's jaw dropped, his eyes widened, and he let out a very unintelligent noise. The table erupted with roaring laughter. "Well," Lily said.

James did not seem to be able to properly answer. "You know it's your fault if I never have a daughter," Lily accused, pointing a finger in his face. "The male determines the sex of the baby."

"I can't tell it what to do," James tried to defend himself and his seed.

The Prewetts were nearly falling out of their chairs. Arthur leaned across the table and said, "Just give up the fight, James. Trust me on this." Molly offered him a heated glare that evaporated when he kissed her cheek.

When dinner had ended, the party guests adjourned to another hall where a band had set up on a stage. James turned to Lily and asked with a sweeping bow, "My dearest Mrs. Potter, if you would do this man a great honor by joining him the dance floor?" Lily held out her hand, and James swept her away.

They had not been in the hall long when the great crystal chandelier above their heads fizzled out. Seconds later, it burst back to life. Many were looking around the room, wondering what had happened. There was suddenly a shrill scream. Heads turned in the direction of the great marble staircase through which they had all entered the hall. There stood a man dressed in very fine black robes, silver thread spinning intricate patterns around the hems. The mask covering his face was just as exquisite looking. It was very obvious that this man was a Death Eater, and equally obvious that he was high ranking in the Dark Lord's army. His arms were crossed over his chest, wand held in a tight fist.

Those nearest to the stairs were pushing away. The Aurors and Order members were slowly drawing their wands, careful not to make any sudden movements. The man let out a low chuckle that echoed through the room. "Why so silent," he asked in a silky voice. He tapped the fist that held his wand against his arm. James narrowed his eyes. He knew that wand. And the way the Death Eater stood, so tall and proud, it was all so familiar.

James's heart stopped. Everything around him was spinning uncontrollably. He did not register Lily's tight grip on his arm. It couldn't be...

The Death Eater began a slow trek down the stairs, his smile showing off brilliant teeth. He stopped about halfway down and lazily flicked his wand. The Dark Mark soared up into the air, colliding with the crystal chandelier. The great light fixture fizzled with green lightning. Then it crashed to the ground. People scrambled to get out of the way. James could not see if anyone was hurt. His hazel eyes darted quickly to Lily, and as one they pushed forward through the panicked people. They had to get to him.

The Death Eater cackled madly as people attempted to flee the room. Suddenly, at all the exits, numerous Death Eaters appeared. Finally Lily was able to break free of the crowd. "Sirius!" she cried.

Sirius stared down at her from under his mask. He twirled his wand between his fingers and asked with a curled lip, "Who are you?"

James pushed two witches aside and ran up beside Lily. He grabbed hold of her shoulders. Sirius eyed James with the same manner he was Lily, but then comprehension dawned upon his face. "You," he said slowly. "You're a Potter." His cold eyes darted back to Lily. "Then you must be Mrs. Potter."

"Come off it, Padfoot," James said. "You know who we are. James and Lily?"

Sirius descended a few more steps. He sneered at them. "I am afraid I do not know you, but of you. Oh yes, I do know of you." Sirius's lips twisted into a frown. It had been some weeks ago that he had remembered. A man with messy black hair was pointing a wand at him. Sirius's body had hurt all over. The man shouted a spell, Sirius was hit with a flash of light, and then his mind was blank.

It had been him, this James Potter who had robbed him of his memories. As if that personal bit wasn't enough reason for Sirius to kill the man, Potter was the father of a boy who the Dark Lord wanted very much dead. And his mudblood wife would have to go too. Yes, Sirius would enjoy this.

James looked terribly confused. "What are you talking about, Padfoot? It's me, James. Prongs. I'm your best friend!"

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "You," he scoffed. "You, a filthy blood-traitor, my friend?" He pretended to wipe away a tear. "You amuse me, Potter."

"Sirius," Lily cried. "Sirius, please! What's going on?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. He lifted his wand and said, "Don't speak to me, Mudblood." There was a flash of light, and Lily was suddenly on the ground wriggling and screaming in pain. Horror flashed across James's face. In a flash, he had his own wand out. Sirius cast a shield around him before the other had a chance to think of the Disarming spell. "You don't seem to be quick enough, Potter. While you've sat about in a blanket of false security, I have been training."

James kept his wand pointed at Sirius as he knelt down and gathered Lily into an embrace. She was shaking heavily. James stared at Sirius in disbelief. None of this could be happening. It was all completely and utterly impossible. Sirius would never be a Death Eater. Sirius would never hurt Lily or James. Something about this was terribly, terribly wrong. "Padfoot, please, what's happened to you?"

Sirius smirked. "What's happened," he asked lazily observing the other Death Eaters baring the exits. Lucius was keeping careful watch of the target. Good, good. It was Sirius's job to go in for the kill. "Why, dear creature of filth, you happened. Or had you conveniently forgotten? Forgotten as you forced me to do." Sirius's voice took on a harsh edge. "Everything is gone, Potter. Can you comprehend how it feels to look at your family, friends, comrades and not know them? It is because of you that I feel this! You stole my memories, my past!"

"Padfoot, what are you going on about?"

"Padfoot," Sirius spat. "What is this ridiculous name you call me? I am Sirius Black, and that is how you shall address me." He smirked. "No matter, you shall not live much longer." He lifted his wand into the air and shot blue sparks. It was the signal.

Chaos broke out through the hall. Lights of all colors flashed through the air as the followers of Lord Voldemort began their killing spree. Screams of victims caught unprepared filled the air. Sirius flew past Lily and James and into the crowd. "Sirius!" James called after him. Sirius, of course, did not heed the blood traitor's call. It was not long before he came upon Lucius, whose wand was pointed at Millicent Bagnold. The Minister was squirming with pain.

Sirius held up his own wand. Lucius eyed him darkly for a brief second before standing back. Sirius frowned deeply at the older man, making a mental note to address the hesitation. "Minister," he said coolly, "I am quite afraid I am here on bad news. You see, the Dark Lord has called for your extermination. Such a pity. I hear you are a decent wizard, pure-blood."

Bagnold stared up at him in utter disbelief. "B–black?" Sirius smirked. "Black, w-what are you doing?"

"Carrying out your sentence, of course," Sirius said lightly. "_Advada Kedavra." _There was a flash of green, and the former Minister dropped to the ground, eyes open but no longer seeing. Sirius smirked at his work. He quickly turned to Lucius. "Send up the signal. We've done what we came here for." Lucius did not look pleased, but sent up a bright flare of orange light. The Death Eaters were quick to fall into retreat formation. Sirius walked rather calmly up the marble staircase. He turned once again to face the hall. "Let this be a warning for all those who oppose the Dark Lord and his faithful servants."

Cries of panic filled the air long after the Death Eaters were gone. The Aurors began to round up the dead bodies and any Healers present set to work their trade on the injured. One gave a potion to Lily to cease her shaking hands and numb the lasting pain. James helped her to her feet and the couple made their way to help with the aftermath. Molly ran up, followed by Fabian supporting Gideon. Molly's eyes were wide with fear. She looked to the exit and back to the Potters. James's face hardened. He did not want to hear her say anything about it. Quickly, he said, "Lily, stay with Molly."

Nearly throwing his wife to the older woman, James took off to find Dumbledore. Along the way, he saw Moody and Arthur with a Healer. Arthur had a gash over his eye, but Moody was far worse. One of his legs was missing. The Healer was setting up a portkey to transport the aging Auror to St. Mungo's. Just before the pair was gone, the Healer set a spell that nearly ridded Arthur of the cut. "Molly's that way," James said in passing as he pointed behind him. James pushed through a tight circle of people to find Dumbledore standing with Amelia Bones and Cornelius Fudge. On the ground before them, lifeless, was Minister Bagnold. James nearly cursed aloud.

As he approached, an Auror tried to hold him back, but Dumbledore insisted he come forward. James stood beside his former headmaster. "Sir," he asked.

"It would seem that their mission was to rid us of our Minister," Dumbledore said heavily. "The retreat signal went up after she was killed."

James drew in a deep breath. He did not want to ask, and he did not want to know the answer. "Who–who did it?"

From the corner of his eye, James could see Dumbledore's shoulders drop. The old man let out a sigh and shook his head slightly. James tightened his jaw as the other answered softly, "Sirius."

There was a snort from somewhere to James's left. He looked up, eyes narrowed. An Auror, James did not know his name or particularly care, stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. "Black always was too good to be true, especially coming from that family. Apples don't fall far from the tree."

James clenched his fists and turned to the other, bluntly ignoring Dumbledore's warning. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

"Isn't it obvious," the other man scoffed. "Black's been playing us all for fools. His entire family has always been above their heads in the Dark Arts and suddenly he's supposed to be the savior of our side? That doesn't happen in the real world."

"You don't know Sirius," James snapped. "If you did, you would never say something like that."

The Auror suddenly smirked. "Oh, that's right. You're James Potter, aren't you? You two are supposed to be tied to the hip, right? So, why didn't you see this coming? Are you a spy too?" James began to growl dangerously. "If you're with us, stop defending him! The bloody prat just threw the Dark Mark up and killed Minister Bagnold! He's a bloody Death Eater."

James finally snapped. He let out a war cry and jumped on the Auror, fists flying and wand forgotten. "James!" Lily's voice called out sharply, but James ignored it. This wanker was going to get his. No one would get away with talking about Sirius like that!

A deep voice suddenly echoed, "Stop!" James then found himself hovering in the air, legs and arms still swinging in attempts to reach the loudmouthed Auror again. Dumbledore lowered James to the ground, and Lily quickly moved to stand between her husband and the other man. She sent a stern glare at him that James did not catch. He was too busy wishing swift death upon the prat on the floor. "James," Dumbledore turned to the young man and said, "I know Sirius is your friend, but we must look at this–"

"Professor, no!" Lily and James both cried out. "Professor," James continued, "you know just as well as I do that Sirius would never do something like this. There is something else to this. Imperius Curse or something!"

"Professor," Lily said, "Sirius said he didn't know who we were. A person under the effects of the Imperius would still know the names and faces of his best friends. He only knew James as a Potter. He didn't respond at all to James calling him Padfoot."

"What's that even mean," some Auror asked.

James snapped, "Mind your own business."

Dumbledore paid no attention to the quick spat, but thoughtfully considered Lily's words. "What else did he say?"

Lily looked up at James. He bit his bottom lip and then slowly said, "He said something about not knowing any of his friends or family anymore. He said it was my fault."

"He said you stole his memories," Lily added. They looked to Dumbledore, whose eyes were narrowed slightly behind his half-moon glasses. He ran a thin hand over his long beard.

"Lily, James," he said very lowly, "to HQ." They nodded and Disapparated away. The headmaster turned around. "Cornelius, Amelia, I'm afraid this means I will have to depart. But when I have all the answers I can muster, I will be in touch you." He was gone before either could nod.

Lily and James sent out their respective Patronus immediately upon Apparating in Hogsmeade. The Inner Circle of the Order needed to meet and discuss this most recent turn of events. The Potters ran up to the Shrieking Shack, descending down the passage that would lead them into the school grounds. They arrived at Dumbledore's office just a few seconds before McGonagall. Remus arrived shortly after, Harry gurgling in his arms. Lily quickly took her baby. A moment later, the Weasleys entered. "Moody's at Mungo's," Arthur said to Dumbledore.

"As is Dorcas," Dumbledore said. The Circle members all sat at their respective seats, James looking with a stony face at the empty seat next to him, and Lily held Harry tightly to her chest. "For Minerva and Remus's benefit, we must give a short rendition of the events that have just occurred at the Ministry." Dumbledore had not even finished his tale before Remus had rose from his chair in shocked disbelief.

Dumbledore motioned for him to sit again. Remus did so, gaping very openly at the headmaster. McGongall's eyes were wide, and James could hear Lily sniffling beside him. "Continuing," Dumbledore said, "Lily and James have brought some important things to my attention. Sirius did not know them and claimed that James had stolen his memories." James nodded.

"All those months ago, when Sirius disappeared, we began to believe him dead. But as a Death Eater? I think James was correct in saying that we all know Sirius better than that. Sirius might excel in hiding his emotions and feelings, but I think not from one so skilled in Legilimency as I, if you will forgive what sounds like bragging. Something has been done to alter him."

"Oh my God," Lily breathed. "Th-they erased his memories and then turned him against us. That's why no one's seen or heard a thing about him in months." She swallowed thickly. "They've been training and brainwashing him."

James's fist slammed onto the table. "Dammit!" he yelled, and Harry began to cry. For once, James did not turn to help quiet his son. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair, cursing. "They've been after him. His family's been trying to get him back. I left him alone." He threw off his glasses and buried his face in his hands. "This is all my fault."


	6. The Potters' New Hunter

**Chapter 6**

Inside the dark halls of Riddle Manor, evil things happen. Evil plans of murder and destruction are discussed. People receive orders to end lives with looks of glee. Raids are given last second fine-tuning. And people's lives are changed forever.

Locked away in the grand dinning hall, Lord Voldemort took up council with his most loyal and trusted followers. His most ruthless officers sat around him, all willing to die for him, to serve time in Azkaban for him, to reap all the benefits of being one of his favorites. Sitting there in their black robes were Lucius Malfoy, Barty Crouch, Jr., Sandra Duvanhon, Severus Snape, and the dark cousins Black.

Sirius, as always since his so-called return, sat at the right side of the Dark Lord, a place Bella had previously held. Her jealousy far outweighed her jubilation that Sirius had been turned to their side. Bella poured out her heart and soul with a new, more vicious vigor than before. It was alarming, especially to the followers of Dumbledore. But Bella was determined to outshine Sirius. It was unfair. She served the Dark Lord willingly, but Sirius was being tricked and still got to be his pet.

"The Prophesy is disturbing, to say the least," Voldemort was saying. "But even more disturbing is the fact that the brat's parents still remain alive." He shot a cold glare at Sandra. She flinched under his crimson gaze. "Care to enlighten us?"

Doing her best to hold back her stammering, Sandra said, "T-they are well protected, m-my Lord." His eyes narrowed. "And their skills are exceptional."

"The woman is a mudblood," Bella snapped. "A mudblood and a blood traitor should not be giving you this much trouble!"

"Well, then you go after them," Sandra snapped at her.

"Silence," the Dark Lord snapped. Both women hastily backed down. His crimson eyes locked onto Sandra. "Your failures are most disturbing, Sandra. You know well that I do not tolerate failure."

"Ye-yes, m-my Lord." Her pale eyes widened as she found a dark wand pointed in her face. Without so much as a blink, the Dark Lord sent the painful curse flying at her. Sandra flew from her chair and lay on the ground, twisting and screaming.

It was several long minutes before Voldemort lifted his wand. The woman still lay on the ground, whimpering pitifully. No one moved to help her. She would eventually get up on her own accord, if she was to make it out of the room at all. "Sirius," he turned to the handsome young man, "you will take care of the child. Get rid of him. Make his parents suffer."

Sirius smirked. "Of course, my Lord." Finally, he thought, a proper chance to make Potter pay.

Bella frowned. She had gotten rid of the Longbottoms, two fully trained Aurors. Their boy had been a child considered as the one mentioned in the Prophesy. She had done it! Why couldn't it be she who went out and destroyed the Potters, bringing her back into the full graces of the Dark Lord? She nearly growled aloud at her cousin. This would only make him even more the new golden boy.

After the meeting was ended, Sirius stayed behind with the Dark Lord. The older man stood and walked about the room, as Sirius shut the door in a lingering Bella's face. The two were silent for some time before Voldemort hissed, "I do not need to tell you how imperative it is that you succeed in this task."

"Of course, my Lord," Sirius said.

"What will you do, Sirius," he asked. "Sandra was right, they are an elusive pair. I will not hide that they have escaped my personal attention before."

Sirius nodded. "I understand their power, my Lord. I will not underestimate them." Voldemort nodded.

"But I must wonder, Sirius, will you let personal feelings in the way?"

Sirius raised a dark brow. "My Lord, would not my distaste for the blood traitor and his mudblood only serve to fuel my desire to rid the world of them?" Voldemort smiled under his hood. He nodded and motioned to the door with a long, white hand. Sirius took note and bowed before exiting the room.

Sirius stepped through the Floo fire from the old Riddle house back to Black Manor. A house elf was waiting to take his cloak and mask. He dumped them over the creature and strolled out of the parlor and down into the kitchen. Another elf scrambled to fetch him a warm cup of tea, and his mother looked up with a raised brow. She inclined her head towards him as he took a seat across from her. "Anything worth mentioning," she asked.

Sirius took the cup of tea from the elf. He sipped from it for a few moments, allowing his mother to stew in curiosity. He was slow to lower the cup to the table, and blinked at her a few times before impassively saying, "I have been put in charge of the destruction of the Potter family."

Walburga nearly screamed with delight. She had always hated the Potter family. They did not deserve the great honor it was to be pure. For as long as anyone could remember, the Potters had been filthy, hypocritical blood traitors. They preached equality of mudbloods and half-breeds to the pure, and yet, they never joined with them. Until this Lily Potter, not a single Potter woman had ever been anything other than pure-blood.

Oh, how she hated the Potters! Ever since childhood her parents had drilled into her who was proper and who wasn't. The Potters were number one on the improper list. She had gone to Hogwarts around the same time as James Potter's father; she had been some years older. He had strutted about like he owned the place, like he was worth something. But she knew that he was not. He was filthy, not fit for polite society. Her hatred of the Potter name had increased ten fold during her son's first year at Hogwarts. He had befriended the Potter boy. Sirius had been rather shameful before, but since that, he had been intolerable. She had hardly been able to look at the boy without her face contorting in rage. That James Potter had twisted his mind and brainwashed her son. He had filled her dear boy's head with deceitful lies and had ruined him. She only thanked whatever powers above that Bella and the Dark Lord were clever enough to have gotten him back.

Walburga observed her son, who was staring back impassively at her. Now that he was acting properly, he was perhaps the most perfect man in England. He sat straight and proud, as if the simple stool he sat on were a throne. His appearance was impeccable, not a hair out of place, blemish on his face, or even a wayward thread on his robes. He spoke fluidly, neither voice nor face betraying any emotions. Sirius was strong, mentally, physically, magically. He surpassed all the family members. He had taken over from her as head of the family, and he was bringing in more money with investments and strengthening ties between allies like no one had done in years. Walburga could finally, after twenty years, say she was proud of her first born son.

"The Potters," she said, a gleeful smile on her face. "How delightful! I assume the Dark Lord has finally grown tired of the slackings of that ungrateful Duvanhon woman."

"Indeed," Sirius said, "I believe she is still twitching on the floor of the manor." Walburga smirked. "The Dark Lord wishes that the Potters suffer for their deeds against him."

Walburga's face darkened. "And suffer you should make them," she said. Sirius smirked and nodded. He stood from the chair and bowed his head to his mother.

"It is late, Mother, and I shall retire now," he said. "Perhaps you should as well."

"I will finish my tea first." Sirius nodded and turned to walk away. "Oh, Sirius," Walburga called, "remember that the family will be gathering for dinner tomorrow."

The next night Sirius stood in the parlor of the manor, family members all gathered conversing on some topic or another. The women had gathered specifically around Narcissa and Bellatrix. For some reason, unknown to him, they had yet to get over Narcissa's baby. He felt badly for the toddler. The women treated him as if he were a plaything. It was his firm opinion that Lucius should do something about it. But, as the boy was a Malfoy, it was quite out of Sirius's hands. Bellatrix's boy, thankfully, was too old for the women to pet him any longer, but as she had just announced that she was pregnant with a second child, Sirius prayed for its sake that it was a girl.

The men all congratulated Rodolphus heartily before the large family adjourned to the dinning hall. The hall was spectacular and dark. Tapestries hung from the ceiling and walls, all proclaiming the glory of Slytherin and the House of Black. Torches lined the walls, and candles reflected off the goblin silver. The family seated itself, Sirius at the head. House Elves came out quickly with the first course of their meal. All but Bellatrix sipped lazily on their wine as they chatted.

Sirius soon found himself becoming frightfully bored with the proceedings. Dinner parties were things for women. Women belonged in the house, sipping tea, dressing up, showing off their husbands' wealth. It was the place of the men to ensure the women were allowed to continue in this manner. It was their job to provide for, to secure bonds and allies, to fight. Sirius held in a sigh. Oh, yes, he would much rather be out in a battle right now. Or in the very least he could be plotting the destruction of the Potters. But no. He was sitting here, pretending to be thrilled with the prospect of an upcoming ball and Bellatrix's unborn child.

Sirius could have hugged Lucius when the older man asked, "Sirius, have you begun to think of how you may conquer the Potter family?"

Sirius smirked and set down his wine goblet. "Indeed I have, Lucius," he said. "One must not waste time fulfilling the Dark Lord's orders." Bella's face darkened.

"And what do you plan to do, cousin," she asked. "After all, so many have failed before you."

Sirius, inspecting his hand, replied, "I should think, however, that I am at least a par above Sandra Duvanhon. Would you not agree, Bella?"

"Far more than a par, I should say," Walburga huffed. "The woman is practically common."

"How she climbed the ranks as she did remains a mystery in my eyes," Druella agreed.

"It does in most," Bella said sharply. It was no secret to any one that Bella had little love for the other woman. Sirius's memory wasn't clear on it, but Rodolphus had told him that it stemmed back to Hogwarts. Something about a frog and a powder puff.

Lucius brought the conversation back to its original point. "But what will you do with them?"

Sirius raised a brow. "The Potters?" Lucius nodded. "Why, make them suffer, of course," he answered. "The Dark Lord is very angry with them. They will not escape unpunished, and we all know the importance of their brat."

"Let us hope that you can hold up to that promise," Lucius said. "As Bella says, many before have failed to kill the Potters."

"But how many were better than me," Sirius asked with a cocky smile.

Lucius smirked. Indeed, how many could be considered better? Since Black's turning, the only one in charge of the battle against the Potters had been Sandra Duvanhon, and she was certainly not the brightest candle on the cake. Better wizards than her had gone against the family and had either been killed in the fight or dragged away to Azkaban. Of course, as Lucius sat thinking about it, Black had been on their side then. Black had always been there to fight along side whichever Potter was being attacked. It was as though he had been mentally linked to them. Black was an extremely talented wizard and had saved their lives on several different occasions. During the few times when the Dark Lord himself had attacked the family, Black had been there to help them escape. How well could the Potters hold up without Sirius Black on their side?

After dinner the family retired to the sitting room. Several of the older relatives were soon off after a quick spot of tea, leaving Walburga as the oldest in the room. The three women chatted senselessly as the men discussed further plans of the Dark Lord. It was not long before Draco began to cry. Narcissa began to rock him and speak softly. Judging by the look on her face, it was very odd that the child's cries did not immediately cease. The other two women also attempted but to no avail.

"That's quite a set of lungs," Rodolphus teased his brother-in-law over the wailings of the fair headed baby. "We could probably lock him the basement and still hear him." Lucius was frowning deeply and looked greatly irritated.

"Give him a bottle or something, Narcissa," he said. The woman had been reaching into the baby bag to do such a thing. Draco, however, would have none of it. He threw the bottle, along with his pacifier and several toys, to the floor.

"I don't understand him," Narcissa sighed. "He's eaten, and he isn't dirty. Come on now, darling, stop this crying." Draco did not heed her words.

After some time, Sirius finally got fed up with the noise. "For God's sake, Narcissa," he said taking the child from her arms. Immediately, Draco ceased his sobbing. Everyone in the room, including Sirius, stared at the baby. Draco gurgled happily and clapped his hands at Sirius.

"What an odd development," Bella said. "I had no idea you were good with children, Sirius."

"Nor did I," he said, nonetheless nearly smiling at the baby. Narcissa was wearing an odd look on her face as she regarded her son and cousin. She knew that when he had been unaltered, Sirius had adored the Potter baby. Was this perhaps a bit of a transfer?

"Well, at least he's stopped his bawling," Rodolphus said. Lucius nodded in agreement. Intent on keeping some sense of decent silence from the baby, Sirius began to play with it. He threw the child in the air and caught him, much to Draco's delight and Narcissa's horror.

"Oh, don't drop him!" she cried.

Lucius moved over to put an arm around her shoulders. "Don't fret, Narcissa," he said. "The boy will probably just bounce again." Sirius played with the child until he was finally tired out. He handed the toddler to his mother, and Draco quickly fell asleep. "I think it is time for us to retire as well," Lucius said, escorting Narcissa from her old home. Bella and Rodolphus were soon to follow. Only Walburga and her sons were left in the house.

Regulus smirked at his brother. "Well, who would have thought it of you, Sirius? A soft spot for the babies."

"Quiet, you little newt," Sirius said, not really meaning anything by it. Sirius looked down at his mother and noticed a wistful look on her face. It seemed rather foreign. "Mother, are you feeling all right? Perhaps we should get you up to bed."

Regulus looked around at his mother and nodded. "Yes, Mother, your face seems a bit red. You need to lie down."

"Nonsense," she said, "I was just thinking." The brothers looked at each other. "I can't wait for grandchildren."

Both Black sons nearly fell over. "Grandchildren?" Regulus asked. "I certainly hope you mean this regarding Sirius." Regulus was, of course, engaged to one of the Rosier girls. He would marry her soon enough, but he wasn't quite ready to have children yet.

"How could she mean me, you dolt," Sirius said. "I'm not even engaged."

"But you are older," Walburga cut in, "and the head of the family. You have to think about the future and provide yourself with heirs."

"Well, Mother, I note that I have no wife or engagement," he said motioning to the Family Tree. Beside the golden threads of his cousins were the golden names of their husbands. Beside Regulus's name, Megara Rosier's name was spun in silver, a sign that she would soon enter the family. "Did I ever," Sirius asked, honestly not knowing the answer. Regulus looked curiously at his mother too. Sirius had run away from the family when he was sixteen, and seeing as how engagements weren't announced until the boy's seventeenth birthday, no one had ever heard Sirius's.

"Yes, you were engaged once," Walburga said, "to Verona Flint. She was a very beautiful girl. She would have made an astounding wife."

"So what happened to her," Sirius asked. "Why are we not married?"

"Poor thing was very fragile," Walburga continued. "Very sickly. The potions could only do so much for her. She died before she turned fifteen."

"Verona," Regulus said slowly. "She was the exotic looking one, wasn't she? With red hair?"

Walburga nodded. She sighed. "She would have been a fine match. If you want to see what she looked like, Sirius, I'm sure there's a picture in my study. I'm too tired to find it now, but perhaps tomorrow."

"Perhaps, Mother," Sirius said. "But let's get you up to bed now." The boys walked their mother up to her rooms. Regulus turned down the comforter before kissing his mother on the cheek and biding her goodnight. Walburga changed into her nightdress and took down her hair. She climbed into bed slowly. "Is there anything you need, Mother? Tea?"

"Have the house elf bring me a glass of water, will you," she asked in a very tired voice. Sirius looked down at an elf and jerked his head towards the door. The tiny being scrambled to do her duty. Sirius walked over to the bed and sat by his mother's side. He took her tiny hand in his.

"Mother, you seem exceptionally tired tonight," he said with a stony face.

"Just all those people over, son," she said. "It was a bit of a rush to arrange the engagement."

Sirius shook his head. "I've seen you arrange parties far more spectacular with great easy. This tired you out, Mother. I think we should leave party arrangements to the girls from now on."

"Nonsense, Sirius," she said as the elf walked in with a crystal glass. She took a long sip. "The girls have their own households to attend to now. It is there that they shall plan parties. There is no lady of this house yet, and until such time I will continue in my duties."

"Then I shall move quickly to find a wife," Sirius said. "I will not have you overworking yourself, Mother. It is not healthy. You cannot pretend that you are still very young."

Walburga sighed and dropped her stony mask. She suddenly looked much older, older than she really was. "You are the head of the family now, Sirius," she said. "You will do as you see fit."

Sirius nodded and stood. He leaned down to kiss her cheek and said, "Good-night, Mother. Will you be needed anything else tonight? Shall I have an elf get you some coals for the foot of your bed?"

"No, it is quite warm out, I'll be fine," she said. Sirius nodded and swept from the room.


	7. Battle In Diagon Alley

**Chapter 7**

Smoke billowed through the air, and explosions rocked the ground. Buildings were crumbled, and people ran screaming in panic. Evil laughter rang through the air. The Dark Mark hung high in the sky, sending an eerie glow about the street. Flashes of light could be seen all over the place. Bodies were piling up quickly.

James Potter flew out of the path of a Killing Curse. He still couldn't believe this! Sirius—his best friend—was standing on a large piece of the former Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Sirius was laughing with glee and throwing curses at anyone he could see. He seemed to find it particularly amusing to aim Killing Curses at James. James just thanked God that Lily was locked away in the Hogwarts Library with Harry doing some Charms research for Dumbledore. He crouched down behind a large hunk of some building.

"Come on out, Potter!" Sirius called. "You can't hide forever!" James knew he couldn't, and he certainly didn't intend to. He needed to think. It was Sirius up there. James knew Sirius better than any being on earth. But he had been changed so much. The old Sirius was there but locked away tightly. Voldemort had taught him many new mannerisms that James couldn't predict. It had been all on purpose, he was sure. James needed to bring Sirius down somehow. He wouldn't kill him, of course. He could never kill Sirius. He'd refuse, if the occasion ever arose. That was his best friend, and he would get Sirius back. He didn't care how long it took. James would see Sirius on the light side again before he died.

Sirius knew a fair assortment of astounding curses, and while he was throwing them about, a pair of Death Eaters were stationed below him, careful to keep constant, powerful shields around him at all times. Voldemort would not want him lost. James cursed. Even if he could draw Sirius away from his little band, what good would it do? On their own, he and Sirius were almost evenly matched. But James would be holding back if he fought Sirius now, and Sirius would give it his all. Besides, Sirius had always known more spells than James. If Sirius had almost always beaten him in mock duels before, what chance did James have now?

"Padfoot," James yelled, "you've got to stop this, please! Think! You know this isn't you!"

"Each time we meet, James Potter, you insist upon calling me by that ridiculous name, and every time I assure you I would never go by such a thing. My name is Sirius Black, and so it will always remain," he said back.

"They've just got you thinking that," James cried. "They're using you. You're a damned good wizard, and they're using it. They know how much you mean to us. You're just a tool, a weapon for Voldemort!"

"Indeed, we all are," Sirius said. "We are all his servants. I have no problem with this. The Dark Lord shares all things with me, as I am his most powerful servant. I have no quarrels being the Dark Lord's right hand. It is rather beneficial."

"What about Dumbledore," James yelled, sending a curse flying at some unsuspecting Death Eater.

"Oh, my no," Sirius said. "You can keep him." James loudly cursed.

Suddenly, a chorus of additional Aurors and Order members appeared. The remaining Death Eaters were clearly outnumbered. Sirius saw this, but he did not seem very upset or angry. "Death Eaters, out!" he yelled, and they all disappeared in a chorus of loud cracks. Again James swore.

"James!" Lily cried, breaking through the crowd to her husband.

"Lily," James gasped, catching the red headed woman in his arms. "What are you doing here? Where's Harry?"

Lily wrapped her arms around his neck. "I left him with Madam Pomfrey," she said. "He was taking a nap, so he shouldn't notice anything for a while." James tightened his grasp on her waist. "He was here, wasn't he," she asked in a whisper. James nodded. "So, he let you live again." James's face was tight. Indeed, Sirius was just toying with them right now. They knew that Sirius was in charge of their destruction, thanks to Snape's information. On every occasion he had encountered his former friends they should have been killed. When Sirius finally wanted them dead, the only thing that would save them was Dumbledore physically between them and Sirius. They had had so many close calls already. What was he waiting for?

"Let's get back to the castle," James said. "We need to talk to Dumbledore." The couple and a few Order members Disapparated, leaving the remaining team and Aurors to take care of the Ally.

They appeared in Hogsmeade and quickly set off for the castle. They presented the proper password for the Aurors at the gates and preformed the correct charm to open the locks. They practically ran down the path leading to the school. Lily flew into the hospital wing to take back Harry, who had just woken up, before they went to the headmaster's office. All the way up to the office, Harry cried out expectantly for a "Padfoo." Lily was nearly brought to tears, as she was every time Harry proved to them that he remembered Sirius still. "Quiet, now, baby," Lily said, blinking moisture from her eyes back as the stairs moved ever upward. "No Padfoot today."

Harry very disappointedly took his pacifier and stuffed dog from James. They opened the doors and were met by a very haggard looking Headmaster Dumbledore. His eyes held little in the way of their normal twinkle. He ushered them inside to hear the latest report. It wasn't long before Harry grew quite bored sitting still. Lily placed him on the floor, and the toddler began to explore with great interest Dumbledore's office. The headmaster spared the baby a smile before turning his attention to more pressing matters. "How bad was the damage," he asked.

"Buildings are crumbled all over the place," James said. "I lost count of the bodies all too quickly."

"Innocent bystanders," Lily sighed.

"As far as Voldemort is concerned, no one is a bystander," Dumbledore said. "In his eyes, you are either with him or against him. He holds no middle ground."

"Sir," James cut in, "about Sirius."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and held in a sigh. No matter how many times James brought this up, it was always painful. Sirius had been a very dear student and loyal follower and friend to him. It was a knife in his chest that Voldemort had done this to the boy. He tried to convince himself now that Sirius—the boy he had taught and trusted—was dead. He knew if it was hard for him, it was excruciating for James and Lily. They, however, refused to call him dead. He was a prisoner in their eyes, one that needed to be rescued immediately, if not sooner. But Dumbledore could see little hope left in that.

James continued, "He was leading the attacks again. What are we going to do, sir? We have to stop him, but we can't kill him! We need to turn him back somehow."

Dumbledore didn't know what he could say to James. It was a waste of manpower and lives to try to confront Sirius now. He was surrounded day and night by dark wizards and wards. His mind had been warped and shaped as though clay in a sculptor's hands. After Voldemort, Sirius was the most feared wizard in all of England. Only Lily and James had survived his attacks. They all knew he was playing with them. The young couple was a pair of dolls, and when Sirius lost interest, he would throw them away. "I don't know what we can do, James," he said. "Sometimes we have to accept things we wish we didn't."

James did not want to hear that. Dumbledore was supposed to know everything. He was supposed to have the answers. He had when they were all in school, so why should it be any different now? James nearly growled. "I won't accept this!" Lily huffed beside him.

"This is intolerable, headmaster," she said shrilly. "Sirius is our best friend. We won't abandon him."

"I don't want to either," Dumbledore said, "but we must look at this logically. For months he has been attacking and killing. He has tried to kill the two of you on several occasions. You must think of yourselves and Harry."

James stood from his chair, wayward hair making him appear quite enraged. "I do think of Harry," he hissed. "My son will not grow up not knowing his godfather, I can promise you that much."

Dumbledore did not immediately answer but instead asked the other people in the room to leave. Lily got up and shut the door behind them and muttered a Silencing Charm. She sat back beside her husband, stony face matching his as their old headmaster said, "You know that Sirius is not only after your lives but also the life of your son."

James's eyes narrowed. "He won't kill Harry."

"The Sirius we once knew would have never had the thought near his mind," Dumbledore countered. "But Voldemort has twisted him beyond anything we can recognize. You can't pretend that he acts anything like he used to any more." Neither Potter said a word.

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair. "I wish it would not have come to this," he said. "But I must ask you this for the sake of Harry and the wizarding world. I have shared with you the Prophesy spoken to me by Professor Trelawney. According to our spies, Voldemort is much more concerned about Harry than Neville. That is why Sirius himself is in charge of you, and the Longbottoms were left alone after Alice and Frank were put away. I think it would be very wise of you to go into hiding."

"No," James said immediately. Dumbledore blinked oddly at him. "Lily and Harry can go into hiding, but I won't. Not while Sirius is still like this."

Lily nodded. "I won't either," she said firmly, not giving either man a chance to insist otherwise. She took her husband's hand tightly in hers. James smiled lovingly at her, deeply thankful for her loyalty.

Dumbledore, however, was not so happy. "I beg you, please, for the sake of your son." He made a wild motion with his hand towards the toddler playing with his model of the solar system.

"We'll keep Harry safe," James assured him. Lily stood to go collect the baby, who had suddenly taken great interest in Fawkes. He grabbed at the great bird's tail and cried out in delight at the shrill yet beautiful noise. She plucked the phoenix's feather from her son's hand and gave him his dog back. "Professor," James continued, "I don't think you understand. Sirius means as much to me as Lily and Harry. He's my brother. I have always been there for him, and I refuse to abandon him now."

Dumbledore did not say anything for a moment but merely regarded the headstrong couple before him. They were too young to have to make such decisions, yet there they sat, mature as anyone his own age, which was quite an age, if he was to say so himself. "Spoken like a true Gryffindor," he said, unable to mask the pride in his voice.

* * *

"You let them escape again!" the cold voice screamed.

Sirius struggled to stay on his hands and knees. It was a difficult task when the Cruciatus Curse was beating down upon him by the darkest wizard in a hundred years. The pain was excruciating, and Sirius was finding it very hard to even breathe. It felt as though every inch of his body was on fire. God, how long was this going to go on?

Voldemort lifted the curse, and Sirius sat there trying to hold in his gasps for breath. It seemed that the Dark Lord was getting a bit impatient with the lack of Potter bodies in a graveyard.

With difficulty, Sirius pulled himself to his feet and stood tall and proud once again. "Yes, my Lord," he said. He locked eyes with the Dark Lord. He could not show further weakness. He was a Black, after all. Blacks were not weak.

Voldemort was standing before his throne, eyes blazing. His pet snake was eyeing Sirius intently, waiting for her master's command to strike at him. It was a blood thirsty thing. "And why, pray tell," the older man hissed. Sirius had not seen him this angry in a very long time. One wrong word would mean Sirius's life.

"It is merely a game, my Lord," Sirius said. "I am toying with them, and they know it. At any moment, I could swoop in and destroy them. They walk on eggshells everywhere they go. It is quite amusing, my Lord."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at Sirius, and the young man stood there, face not betraying the emotions within. He was not sure how well he could take another round of the Cruciatus from Voldemort. His lord had much more power behind the curse and used it longer than most dared.

Voldemort sat back in his throne. "Your game will end soon, Sirius," he said.

Sirius bowed and exited the room. He walked regally through the halls of the dusty old manor and threw Floo powder into the fire. Only after he had arrived in his own home did he allow himself to limp and placed a hand over his tender ribs. Over a period of time, the Cruciatus curse could leave longer effects. Although Sirius didn't receive punishment often from the Dark Lord, when he did it was in abundance. Also during the time Bella had been retraining him, she had seen fit to use the Cruciatus often to force him to quickly learn from mistakes.

He had seen the curse too much over the past year.

He sat down gingerly in one of the fine chairs in the parlor. He stared into the roaring flames under the great mantle. The heat quickly dried the sweat clinging to his body. He shuddered with a deep intake of air. Sirius shook his head. Enough was enough, he decided. It was high time that his body adjust to the affects of the curse. Then he would not suffer so through the Dark Lord's temper. Also, he should follow orders more promptly.

Perhaps it was high time to finish off the Potters, he mused. He had let them slip away at least five times already. They had lived their lives a year longer than they should have.

Sirius slowly stood. He would deal with them tomorrow. He was too tired right now.


	8. Sirius's Son

**Chapter 8**

Sirius sat in the shadows of a tree in Godric's Hollow. He had a wonderful view of the Potter house, and he could see lights flickering through the windows. Sirius twirled his wand in his hand, a smirk appearing on his face. He had been studying the Potters' mannerisms for the past few days. If things went according to plan, they would exit their house in a matter of moments to bring their baby outside to play.

Almost right on schedule, James Potter emerged from the house, a large box in his hands. The child came scurrying out behind his father, the mudblood following behind. Potter dumped the box over, and numerous infant toys fell out to liter the yawn. The young family set to work playing and having a merry time, a break from the turmoil that was the war. Sirius grinned. They made things all too easy.

Soon, the couple picked up their son and headed across the street to a small, quaint little park. They sat in the grass under a tree and placed the baby on the ground. He stood and began to run about as young toddlers tended to. He chased nothing, gurgling happily when he fell to his rump. Sirius watched the parents. They were speaking, only throwing occasional glances at the baby. Sirius was sure they had set a spell keeping him from going too far away. Well, that wouldn't cover Sirius getting closer. Sirius moved silently down the tree, careful to keep himself concealed behind the large trunk. Using a mirror spell, Sirius observed the surroundings.

He crouched down and peaked carefully from behind the tree. The Potters looked up but did not see him. The baby was running about, and then looked in his direction. He stared straight at Sirius, and then did something unexpected. The toddler walked straight for Sirius, not making a sound to indicate his presence. Sirius smirked. The child had made this much easier than it should have ever been.

Quickly, Sirius swept out from behind the tree and grabbed the baby. The mudblood screamed, and Potter had his wand out in half a second. Sirius held the baby in front of him, wand in one hand. "Uh-uh, Potter," he tusked. "Wouldn't want to hurt the child, now would we?" Potter's eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. The woman's eyes had tears flowing freely, and she had a tight hold on her husband's arm. Potter lowered the wand.

"There now," Sirius said. "That's what I thought. Either way, the boy's going to die." The woman sobbed.

"Give him back, Sirius," Potter demanded, his voice tight. "Give me back my son."

Sirius raised a dark brow. "Oh, I should think not, Potter," he said causally. "You see, the Dark Lord wishes to see the child dead. So, I will kill him."

Lily fell to her knees and begged hysterically, "No, God, please, please, give him back!" Sirius laughed. "Kill me instead," she cried. "Please, kill me, but let him live. He's just a baby!"

Potter jumped in front of her. "No," he said, "you can kill me, Sirius. I'll stand here and go without a fight, just please give Lily the baby."

"Amusing," Sirius said. "I'm sure your would-be sacrifices are meant to be noble, but I don't care. Your words fall on deaf ears, Potters. The boy is doomed to die. Accept it."

"You bastard," Lily screamed.

"Lily," Potter said sharply.

Lily grabbed her long red hair. "I don't care. I just want my baby back!" Potter blinked his eyes furiously, keeping tears in check.

Sirius chuckled. He bounced the baby a few times, causing him to giggle and cry happily, "Padfoo!"

Sirius stared blankly at the child. Then he looked up at the desperate couple, a bark of laughter escaping from his lips. "Potter, you are something else. You've taught your child to refer to me by that ridiculous name."

"No, Sirius," Potter said, trying to remain calm. "We've never had to teach Harry your name. He knows you from before they did this to you. Why can't you remember?"

"The only thing I remember being done to me was having my memories erased by a pompous little Gryffindor," Sirius said coldly. "Now, I implore you to choose. Either I kill the child in front of you, or I give him to the Dark Lord. Now, I can't guarantee that the Dark Lord will give the child a painless death."

Lily sobbed. Potter gripped her shoulders tightly, tears finally spilling over his cheeks. "You know," Sirius said. "I think I'll just do it." He held the baby at an arm's length and lifted his wand. He pointed the tip in the toddler's face. Harry giggled, expecting fun magic as his parents usually did for him. Sirius smirked. The baby would not even have time to be surprised. Sirius drew in a breath to say the incantation.

Sirius stood still. His eyes were narrowed and focused, and his wand arm was steady. He opened his mouth, but he didn't say the incantation. He stared at the baby, who beamed back with his overly large emerald eyes. Sirius frowned. There was an odd tugging in his chest. As much as he desired to, to keep himself from punishment, he could not even think the Killing Curse.

What was this?

Sirius turned back to the parents. They were stark white and shaking. Sirius smirked. "Did that scare you," he asked. Lily clung to her husband. With a cynical laugh, Sirius said, "You must now bid your son farewell, for you will not be in his life again."

Lily let out a blood-curling scream as Sirius Apparated away, taking her only child with him.

* * *

Sirius walked briskly through the dark halls of Riddle Manor, the Potter child held securely in his arm. Several Death Eaters sent him astonished looks. Sirius climbed the grand staircase and made his way down the hall to the Dark Lord's chambers. Outside the doors, he met his cousin. Bella wore her haughty look and opened her mouth to speak but then saw the child. "Sirius!" she cried. "You've got him!"

Sirius smirked. "Did I not tell you that this would present little trouble to me, Bella?"

She frowned. "Why is he not dead?"

"I have brought him for the Dark Lord," Sirius said. "Now stand aside, Bella." The older woman narrowed her eyes, but she obeyed. Sirius stepped into the room and shut the doors behind him. It was dark, as usual, and the candles threw their dim light into the middle of the room. The Dark Lord sat on his throne, one hand stroking the head of his pet snake. Sirius stepped forward and bowed. The baby began to cry, and subconsciously, Sirius bounced him.

The Dark Lord noted the child and sat up, an expression of glee twisting his skull like face. "Sirius," he said in a voice full of pride, "you are surely the finest of my followers, indeed of most wizarding kind."

Sirius bowed his head. "You flatter me, Master," he said. Voldemort stood and walked forward. The baby cried harder, and Sirius tightened his hold on him. Voldemort's red eyes narrowed.

"It is time to dispose of him," he said, cold voice echoing through the room and eyes gleaming. Sirius's throat tightened. His own gray eyes narrowed at his master. He fought the urge to violently shake his head. What was wrong with him? Was this concern he was feeling for the infant? That made no sense at all. Sirius didn't like children, much less a hated enemy's child. He could barely tolerate Narcissa's baby, for Merlin's sake. Why should he care about the fate of the one being that posed real threat to his master, the only one that would be able to kill him? The death of the child would mean the Dark Lord's total dominance, not to mention the great position Sirius would have.

So why did he care that his master had lifted his wand?

Cursing himself and holding the child more securely, Sirius said, "Master, I have an idea."

The Dark Lord raised a brow. "Speak," he said.

Sirius drew in a deep breath, expertly keeping his face void of emotions. "Master, according to the prophecy, this child would be able to destroy you, correct?" The Dark Lord nodded with a frown. "This being said, this child must have extreme magical potential."

"Indeed," the other answered.

"So, Master," Sirius continued, "why kill him and waste this talent? Why not allow the child to live and have him brought up under your complete service? Would this not be an asset in later years?"

Voldemort tapped his chin with a long finger. He looked thoughtful.

"It would bring Albus Dumbledore and his followers great pain to know that we have taken their weapon away from them and made it ours," Sirius persuaded.

A glee flashed across Voldemort's eyes. "So it would," he said. He locked eyes with Sirius, suddenly seeming suspicious. "But why do you wish to see this child live?"

Sirius blinked. Why? Tightly, he said, "It concerns me not either way, but I think a child to dote over would bring my mother some joy. She has taken ill lately, and potions do not seem to remedy her."

Voldemort stroked his pointed chin. "Terrible news," he said. "So be it," he proclaimed after a few moments. "You will keep the child, Sirius. Raise him as your son and my follower. Do not let him know he is a Potter. But I do caution you: the child's life depends on your performances. Keep that in mind, should you grow to care about him."

"Of course, my lord," Sirius said, bowing and taking his leave from the room. Bella whisked in an instant after Sirius exited the gloomy hall where the Dark Lord spent most of his time. The door slammed loudly, causing the baby to cry. Quickly, Sirius quieted him.

Sirius stared down at the child. Watery emeralds stared back up at him. Sirius frowned. He would have to do something about those eyes. Other than hair color, the child looked nothing like him. Sirius nearly snorted as he noted the impeccable similarity that child had for his father. However, he had his mother's eyes. Sirius would change that as soon as he got home.

"Padfoo," the baby suddenly exclaimed.

Sirius's frown deepened. That would most certainly have to go, more than anything else. "No," Sirius said firmly. The baby's face screwed up in confusion. "No," Sirius repeated. He would not allow that ridiculous name to continue. It meant nothing, and thus was a waste of breath.

The baby, however, seemed to have other plans. He opened his mouth and began to say continuously, "Padfoo, Padfoot, Padfoo!" Sirius narrowed his eyes at the brat. As soon as he got home the child was going to an elf. The sooner the elf taught him to properly speak, the better. Sirius, bluntly ignoring the child in his arms, strolled through the halls and to the Floo fireplaces. It was seconds before he was standing in his parlor.

Walburga was sitting on the fine green couch, bewitching needles to sew a delicate embroidery piece. She looked up to greet her son, but she was shocked into silence at the sight of the Potters' baby. Sirius pursed his lips for a second before explaining, "Behold, by order of the Dark Lord, Harry Potter, now Black."

"Black," Walburga asked, mouth agape. "You captured the child, and the Dark Lord gave him to you to raise?"

"So it would seem," Sirius said. He felt it would be better to not mention the fact that he had asked for the child. His mother's health seemed frail enough these days. "The boy is to be my child, to all outer appearances. We will need to alter the Family Tree, of course," he said, arm making a sweeping motion to the black tapestry hanging on the wall to his left.

"Alter the Tree," Walburga cried aghast. "We can do no such thing."

"Come now, Mother," Sirius said. "Don't rile yourself up, you'll be tired. If the boy is to always think he is a Black, his name must appear on the Tree. These are the Dark Lord's orders."

Walburga frowned, but stood, saying, "He requires Black blood to seem your son to the Tree." Her eyes darted to her embroidery. Sirius nodded, and with a wave of her wand, the needles ceased their movement. Sirius walked over and sat the baby on the couch. He cut his finger and then the baby's. Harry began to cry loudly. Sirius frowned but otherwise ignored the noise. He wiped some of the crimson liquid dripping from his punctured finger to a clean one. Then he pressed the blood into the baby's small wound.

He looked up at his mother, who nodded. She understood. He could not mix his pure blood with the brat's tainted. Walburga lifted her wand, and a soft blue glow formed over the pressed fingers. When the glow subsided, Walburga lowered her wand. Sirius picked up the child and looked over towards the Tree. Golden thread was writing out the name Harry just under Sirius's own name.

"Harry," Walburga scoffed. "Such a common name."

Sirius frowned. It was. "We will leave it," he said. "He already answers to it. I will not put in the effort to make him change." His mother nodded.

Harry continued to cry in Sirius's arms. "Do silence him, dear," Walburga said. "The noise hurts my head."

"Quiet, Harry," Sirius immediately said. Just as quickly, Harry's cried ceased. Walburga raised a dark brow.

"Perhaps Regulus was correct," she said slyly. "Perhaps you are wonderful with children." Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His mother smiled. She studied the child in her son's arms. "It is unfortunate that he looks so like a Potter."

Sirius blinked. "Ah," he said, "that reminds me." He lifted his wand and pointed it at Harry's face. A gray mist floated forth and settled over the baby's eyes. The vibrant green faded into the stormy gray of Sirius's own eyes. His eyes now seemed much smaller and his hair less dark.

Walburga nodded. "Clever," she said. "Come now, we will set a room up for him." Walburga led the way to the attic and took Harry from Sirius so that her son could move the old baby items down. While Sirius floated furniture down, Walburga sent an elf to collect necessities for a baby. They moved down into the new nursery on the second floor, Sirius arranging furniture and Walburga playing with the baby. She felt that her heart was lighter than it had been in years. Perhaps Sirius bringing the child home was not such a bad thing.

Regulus came home from the Rosiers' just as they were finishing up. He walked by the room, heading for his own, but back tracked. He blinked oddly at the decorations around the room. "Er—M-mother," he stuttered.

His mother and older brother turned around. Walburga smiled at him, and Sirius nodded his head in greeting. Regulus then saw the baby in his mother's arm and recognized him. "What in Salazar's name?"

Sirius raised a dark brow. "The Dark Lord will surely explain at the next meeting," Sirius said. "But for now shall I say that the Potters seem to have lost their child, and we have found one."

Regulus blinked. "You've adopted the kid?"

"Dark Lord's orders," Sirius said. "Harry is now a Black. Even the Family Tree says it. Understand this, Regulus, he is to never know that he isn't my biological son."

"He'll need a mother, Sirius," Regulus said, acting as the voice of reason. Surely his mother and brother had lost theirs. "Had you forgotten that?"

"Why, Regulus, I'm shocked," Sirius said. "Don't I always think things through? His mother died, of course. He was too young to ever remember her, I'm afraid." Regulus rolled his eyes, and Sirius smiled. "Well, you're an uncle now, hold your nephew," Sirius said, plucking the toddler from his mother and dumping him in Regulus's arms. Regulus blinked at him, not knowing what to do. Harry laughed and grabbed a large handful of Regulus's hair. Regulus cried out, and Sirius smirked. "He likes you."


	9. Loss Of A Child

**Chapter 9**

Dumbledore stood from his chair so fast it fell to the floor with a loud thud. His blue eyes were round and had lost every trace of their normal twinkle. His jaw hung open as he stared at the young couple before him. James's face was wet with recently shed tears, and he was holding Lily tightly to his chest. His wife was sobbing hysterically. Her face and eyes were as red as her messy hair.

"What," he asked in a voice just above a whisper.

The younger man swallowed thickly. "H-he took him," James repeated. "Sirius took Harry."

"When did this happen," Dumbledore asked quickly.

"Not ten minutes ago," James said. Lily let out another horrible cry, and her knees buckled. James lowered her into one of the chairs before the headmaster's desk. McGonagall rushed forward to offer what little comfort she could to her former student. James leaned forward on the desk. "What can we do?"

Dumbledore was silent. He didn't know what to say. There was nothing that could be said. Sirius had brought Harry to Voldemort, and Voldemort desperately wanted Harry dead. Voldemort would never let the child live. As much as it tore at his heart, Dumbledore had to admit that Harry was not likely alive anymore.

"James," Dumbledore said softly, "it's too late."

James slammed his fist onto the desk as Lily screamed again. "Don't say that!" James roared. "Don't ever say something like that! Harry—Harry can't be—Sirius could never do something like that!"

"The Sirius we knew," Dumbledore said, sounding sterner than he meant to be. "And Voldemort always would."

James didn't say anything but stood fuming at his former headmaster. Fury flashed through his hazel eyes, and his already unruly hair was standing near on end. Several of the old headmaster's possessions were rattling on the shelves as a result of raw magic radiating from James's anger.

"James, we have to face facts here, despite how much it hurts," Dumbledore said, eyes downcast and holding in tears at the loss of the precious young boy and the frantic heartbreak it was causing his parents.

With a desperate roar of rage, James grabbed hold of a small model of the solar system on Dumbledore's desk and hurled it at the wall. The small silver model shattered into a hundred pieces. Dumbledore stood quietly. James turned and kicked the other chair in front of the desk. It fell to the ground and rolled over a few times. One of the legs broke off. James stormed around the office, kicking and throwing things as he came to them.

He finally dropped to the floor beside the shelf where the Sorting Hat rested. He buried his face in his hands, letting out a sob. Lily shot out of the chair and down to her husband. They clung tightly to each other, overcome with grief at the loss of their son.

James held Lily closely. His heart was broken. That was all there was too it. The Dark side had taken everything from him except for Lily. They had taken his parents, his best friend—his brother in all but blood, and his son. He had almost nothing left. He couldn't take much more of this. It would destroy him.

Dumbledore pursed his lips together, taking several deep breaths through his nose in attempts to remain calm. He looked over to his phoenix, stroking its red head softly. "Fawkes, assemble the entire Order for an emergency meeting," he said softly. In a flash of fire, the phoenix was gone. He motioned to the Transfiguration professor, and they left the room, giving the grieving couple time alone.

They walked briskly down the hall towards the room that had been set apart for emergency Order meetings. McGonagall was trying desperately to keep from shedding tears. Members arrived as quickly as they could. Those with young children took a few extra minutes to drop them off at the Hospital Wing for Madam Pomfrey to watch. Molly and Arthur Weasley were the last to arrive as the twins had needed scolding again.

Dumbledore stood at the head of the table, Fawkes perched on the back of his chair. He rubbed his eyes under his half moon spectacles before looking out at the expectant faces before him. "I'm afraid I have some terrible news," he said in a sorrow filled voice. Several people glanced at each other before turning their full attentions back to their leader. Dumbledore noticed the particularly desperate looks on the faces of Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. They had obviously noticed Lily and James's absence.

"Earlier this afternoon, Lily and James's baby was kidnapped," he said. "Harry has been taken to Voledmort. He is not likely alive anymore."

Remus and Peter were on their feet in a flash. "No," Peter said. Remus's amber eyes were flashing with anger. "There's no way."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid it's true," he said. Fawkes let out a sad note.

"But Harry's just a baby," Molly said shakily. "What would You-Know-Who want with him?"

Moody nodded in agreement. "I can get why he'd want the Potters. They've bested him on more than one occasion."

Remus and Peter were frowning at Dumbledore. It was the old headmaster's guess that Lily and James had shared the information of the Prophesy with their closest friends. They would understand the significance of Harry's death to the general wizarding world. Dumbledore sighed. He was quite sure that he had interpreted the Prophesy correctly, for Voldemort had come to the same conclusions as he had. But there was always the slight possibility that they had both made a mistake. Dumbledore shuddered to think that Harry had been killed for nothing, but he knew that he could not tell the other Order members that the only supposed chance of stopping Voldemort was gone. It would crush their spirits, and the world would surely fall into darkness. He could not let that happen. While he had adored Harry as grandfather would, there were other innocent children out there, innocent people. He would never sit back and let them be destroyed too.

"It is true that killing Harry is a way to break Lily and James's spirits. Voldemort would jump at any chance to do that," he said softly. "Harry's death will be a gaping hole in some of us for years to come, I do not deny that, but now you must all see how important it is that we end this war. We must find a way to stop Voldemort and his followers before more innocents can be taken, before more families can be ripped apart."

The room was tensely silent. Peter and Remus still stood, stony gazes locked on their former headmaster. "They are in my office," Dumbledore said softly. The two young men tore from the meeting room and down the halls of the castle. Students wandering about jumped towards the walls to avoid collisions. They arrived at the stone gargoyle and began to spout off sweets names. Finally, at Droobles Best Blowing Gum, it jumped aside to reveal the spinning staircase. Remus and Peter ran up the stairs two at a time and burst into the office.

Lily and James were still sitting on the floor. James had controlled his tears again and was continuing to hold his sobbing wife. Remus and Peter walked slowly into the room and towards their friends. They sat down on the floor beside them. James ran his hand over Lily's hair and looked up at Remus, drops of his tears still on his glasses lenses. "He told the Order," Remus said thickly. James's jaw tightened. Remus grimaced as he asked, "Prongs, it—it wasn't—?" James buried his face in Lily's hair, and the other two had their answer. Sirius had done it.

Remus and Peter looked at each other over their friends' heads. Peter had tears swimming in his eyes, and Remus was fighting to keep his own down. Someone needed to be strong for Lily and James right now. He would do his best, but it wouldn't be enough. Nothing could bring Harry back now. Remus grinded his teeth together as he thought of Sirius.

James had been wrong. The Sirius they knew was gone forever. They couldn't reach him. If he had taken an infant—an infant he had adored more than life itself—to the darkest wizard in a hundred years to be brutally murdered, then there was no turning back. Sirius had been corrupted fully by the Death Eaters. He had lost all feelings and ghosts of memories from before he had been kidnapped. They would never be able to reach him. James had been wrong.

Peter folded his arms over his knees and rested his forehead on them. He was trying with all his might not to burst into tears at the thought of Harry gone. It didn't seem real. He had just seen the baby yesterday when he and Remus had gone over to the Potters' for lunch. To think that they would never get to play with him, help James teach him how to fly, tell him stories of their days at Hogwarts, it was too much to bear.

Peter couldn't believe what Sirius had done. He knew Remus was torn about it too. They all were. Sirius had loved the baby like nothing else. So why? Even when people were Obliviated, they retained their personalities. Sure, the first few months at Hogwarts Sirius had been just as nasty as the rest of the Slytherins. He had called the Muggle-borns mudbloods. He and James had screamed at each other nearly every day. But then he had come out of it. Somehow James had found a small piece of Sirius's real heart and had latched onto it. He had brought Sirius out from his shell and helped him to become the wonderful and loyal friend they had all known. Had the Death Eaters gotten that deep into Sirius's mind that they were able to alter his true self? Peter shuddered to think of it.

He lifted his beady eyes to James and Lily. This was a big double hit, a low blow, even for Voldemort. Remus had placed a comforting hand on James's shoulder. Peter shifted closer to his friends. He knew, just as well as Remus, that nothing they said or did could ever begin to mend the wounds on Lily and James's hearts. He hoped that by being there, they could at least offer their friends a shoulder to cry on. It was all they could do.

* * *

The Dark Lord stood from his throne. His followers were standing in their designated spots around the room. Sirius stood tall and proud at the right hand side of the Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort began his business. He reviewed lost followers and converted ones. He discussed plans for attacks and takeovers. He conferred with the wealthy the finances of the war.

The meeting, after nearly two hours, was drawing to a close. "We have one final order of business," he hissed. With a dreadful smile, he glanced at Sirius saying, "Sirius has managed to succeed where we have all failed. He has captured the child of the Potters."

"So the brat is dead," Lucius asked.

"Far from it," Voldemort said. The Death Eaters shot glances at each other from under their hoods. Some whispered. Voldemort raised a hand for silence, which was given immediately. He motioned to Sirius.

"Mother," Sirius said. Walburga emerged from the shadows behind the Dark Lord's throne. Harry was sleeping peacefully in her arms. She smiled at the baby as she handed him over to her son.

"Aunt," Bella asked in shock. Walburga said nothing. She merely disappeared back into the shadows. "My Lord," Bella turned to the Dark Lord. The snake like man smirked.

"Young Harry is now as one of us," he said with pride and satisfaction. "In accordance with my orders, Sirius has agreed to take the child in and raise him as his own son. Harry will become a great and loyal follower of our dark way." Harry stirred in Sirius's arms. Very seriously, leaving no room for objections, he continued, "The boy is to never know that he is not a Black."

"And I'm sure the fact that he looks just like Potter will never come under his notice," Bella hissed. The Dark Lord turned on her with fury written all over this face. Bella cowered, nearly throwing herself to the ground at his feet. She was quite fortunate that he merely hissed at her to stand.

"To answer Bella's concerns," Sirius said, "the Black family does unfortunately share relations with the Potters, on a distance scale, of course. Improbable as it may be, it is not impossible that Harry just happened to display physical likeliness to his distant relatives."

Harry let out a loud yawn and opened his eyes. Lucius frowned. "The Potter boy has green eyes," he said.

"Come now, Lucius," Voldemort said almost pleasantly, "Magic provides means to do something as simple as changing eye color. I have never met a Black with the eye color so notable as the mudblood's. Neither Potter has grey eyes, and the dominant eye color in the Black family is grey. It makes sense, yes?"

The Death Eaters agreed quickly with their master. Minutes later, the Dark Lord dismissed his followers. The Black brothers and their relatives adjourned back to the family manor. They went into the parlor, where Narcissa and Walburga were waiting with tea. Draco was playing on the floor. Sirius lowered Harry to floor, and he crawled over to his cousin. The adults watched the children for a few moments before Bella noted, "He needs a mother, Sirius."

"So I've heard," Sirius said.

Bella did not take his tone as warning to cease the discussion. "Your mother can't raise him. Watch him occasionally, fine, but she has done her duty by raising you and Regulus. She has been the lady of the family for many years and even saw to your responsibilities while you were gone."

Sirius turned to glare at her. "I could not help that," he said.

Bella scoffed, "Perhaps not, but you must seriously look into finding a wife for yourself. I shudder to think of what the child would be like with only you to raise him."

"Can't be worse off than the Potters doing it," Rodolphus said.

Sirius turned to him with blazing eyes. "Hold your tongue, Rodolphus," he snapped. "There is to be no more mentioning of Harry as anything other than my son. I thought the Dark Lord made that clear? Do you need reminding?" He had pulled out his wand, which was now pointed dangerously at Rodolphus's nose.

The older man blinked nervously at the wand. He held up his hands in defense. "I meant nothing by it, Sirius," he said slowly.

"Drop the wand, Sirius," Bella ordered.

"This is my house, Bella," Sirius reminded her. "You do not give orders here." He flicked his cold grey eyes back to his cousin's husband. "Rodolphus, take this as a warning. If you say anything again, I will kill you." With that, Sirius turned and scooped Harry up from the floor, sweeping from the room.

Sirius marched up the stairs with the baby in his arms. He walked into the nursery and turned the lighting down. He lowered Harry into the crib and watched as the baby walked around, playing with the numerous toys hanging from the sides. Sirius frowned at the thought of idiots like Rodolphus who could possibly ruin it all. He hoped that they would gain some sense as time passed. Harry wasn't to know he wasn't a Black. Sirius resolved to curse the next imbecile who said otherwise into oblivion.

Harry fell back onto his haunches and looked up at Sirius with wide grey eyes. Sirius stared back. "Daddy," Harry asked.

Sirius nodded. "Yes," he said. "I'm your daddy."

Harry looked rather confused. "No Daddy," he said, laughing as though Sirius's words were quite amusing. He pointed at Sirius and said, "Padfoo!"

"No," Sirius said sharply. Harry blinked. Sirius pointed at himself and said, "Daddy." Harry did not seem to know what to do with this information. He merely stared back up at Sirius. The head of the Black family ran a hand through his hair tiredly. This was going to be a long process.

The women were right. Sirius needed to quickly find a wife. He didn't have time to be a single parent. If Harry was going to be raised properly, he needed someone to be solely committed to it. Sirius had been raised mostly by his mother, until he had reached a certain age, of course. His father had then taught him how to manage the family.

Sirius reached down and stroked Harry's messy jet of black hair. He offered the baby a small smile. "I'll have to find someone very strong for you, won't I," he said. "The Dark Lord will always be watching you. We'll make you strong."

Harry smiled up at him. He reached his chubby arms for Sirius and said, "Dog." Sirius raised a dark brow. "Dog. Doggy," Harry cried. Sirius had no idea what the child was talking about. There were no dogs anywhere around the manor.

"No, Harry," Sirius said. He rested his hand on the side of his son's face. He smiled. His son. It filled him with an odd sense of pride. Sirius didn't understand it. This boy meant nothing to him. He had only had him for a day. It was very strange.

Sirius shook his head and lowered his hand as Harry yawned. Sirius laid the boy down and pulled a blanket over him. "Go to sleep, son," he said. Harry obliged after a long yawn. Sirius smiled again and walked from the room.


	10. A Lady For Black Manor

**Chapter 10**

Some months later, when the Potters knew that their son still lived but was being raised by the Blacks, when Harry had stopped referring to Sirius as Padfoo, when Bella's stomach looked ready to burst, Sirius stood in his parlor, a glass of wine in his hand and a bored expression on his face. Lucius stood next to him with his own glass of wine and an expression nearly matching his wife's cousin's. Their grey eyes watched Rodolphus run back and forth from a small refreshment table to his wife. Bella was sitting on one of the couches, Narcissa and Megara Rosier on either side. She had one hand resting protectively on her overly large stomach, and the other was popping a slice of pickle and strawberry into her mouth. The other two women looked on with slightly green faces.

Lucius sighed, "I must admit that I feel a bit of his pain." Sirius raised a brow. "Narcissa once demanded a glass of water with dissolved Sugar Quills, lime juice, and a dash of salt with cantaloupe cubes." Sirius did not disguise his look of disgust. Lucius laughed. "One day," he said with amusement, "perhaps you too will be forced to content with the cravings of a pregnant woman."

Sirius smirked. "Perhaps," he said.

"Speaking of," the older man asked, "have you thought any more about that?" Sirius merely lifted a brow. Lucius snorted. "None of that, Sirius," he said, "or else we will be playing this game for a very long time."

Sirius smirked. Indeed, he and Lucius could dance around each other for hours if they so chose. However, Sirius, Lucius too, found that game to get rather boring very quickly with each other. Sirius regarded his kinsman for a moment. Sirius considered no one his friend, per-say, but if he had been forced to create a list, Lucius would have been near the top, if not number one. If there was anyone he would have such a conversation with, it would be the head of the Malfoy family.

"The thought enters my mind occasionally," Sirius said. He swirled his wine glass for a few seconds. "To be completely honest, I have no real desire to marry, other than to take the burdens of being the lady of the manor from my mother. You know she is stubborn and refuses to let the girls plan anything at the manor."

Lucius nodded. Indeed more and more parties involving his wife's family were being held at his own manor. Narcissa had taken up the duty willingly. Other than caring for Draco, it was all she had to do. Although she was not as close as Bellatrix to her aunt, she had no desire to watch the older woman tire herself out. Narcissa had confided in him a concern of Sirius's. It seemed that Walburga's health was in a rapid decline. She was not a very old woman, even by Muggle standards, but she was fading. Potions were doing her little good.

"And Harry," Lucius asked, drawing away from the tense subject.

Sirius's eyes narrowed slightly. The hand holding the wine glass tensed for a fraction of a second. He took a slow sip. "Might I be honest with you, Lucius," Sirius asked.

"Of course," the other man answered.

"I don't trust Harry to be raised by just any one, least of all some woman I choose in a rush, which is how others would have it," he said with a cold voice. "I don't care for any of that rubbish about marrying for love. I don't care for it in the least. And I'm sure you understand it. After all, you cannot pretend to have loved my cousin when you married her."

Sirius looked at him with a raised brow and the ghost of a smile. Lucius returned the expression with a nod. Indeed he had not loved the fair haired Black when they had said their vows. Truth be told, he was not sure if he loved her now. He was very fond of her, after their years together, but love? He could not be sure. Narcissa had not been the one he was originally set to marry. He was a few years her senior, and, as a Malfoy heir, there was no lack of potential brides for his parents to choose from. However, when he was just three years old, the girl that had been promised to him was taken with a fatal illness. Potions were not administered in time. Luckily, the younger of the Black brothers had just had a new daughter. It was quickly arranged. It had been a good arrangement, one long overdue.

"I do hate to be too realistic here," Lucius said. Sirius snorted. Lucius ignored him, continuing, "What time do you have for raising a child on your own? Like Bella said, your mother has done her part."

"I know," Sirius said quietly. "But Harry is my son and heir. I will not let just any woman near him. He will be raised properly."

"You are living in a fantasy world," Lucius said firmly but not harshly. He knew that Sirius was speaking subconsciously as his true self. Lucius was not fool enough to think that the old Sirius Black had been completely erased. They had warped him, true, but they had not completely converted him. That was why all three Potters were still alive. That was why Sirius had never killed Lily and James and was now raising Harry. Sirius still held very soft spots for all of them. He might not understand them, but they were there. It was perhaps stupid of him, but Lucius had grown a bit—should he say fond—of Sirius since his turning, as one might feel for a younger brother. Still, he would not let Sirius dwell in things that could not happen. "You cannot raise the boy alone. You will also be very hard pressed to find a woman you consider worthy in a short amount of time. And you need a wife, even if just for appearances."

Sirius pursed his lips together in aggravation, but he knew Lucius was right. He was short on time. His mother was growing weaker by the day, but she would not back down from the duties as the lady of the manor until he married. Sirius would not be the cause of his mother's death; he had resolved that long ago. But he dreaded allowing Harry to be raised by some lowly creature picked out for him.

Sirius held in a sigh. Was it worth it, all his worrying? When marriages were arranged, the children were too young to show any qualities such as the ones Sirius wanted for a mother figure for his son. The only thing that was looked at was good blood and good family. Why should he worry about anything more?

With one quick gulp, Sirius drained the remains of his glass. Lucius raised a light brow. Sirius's face was one of sheer determination. His grey eyes flickered over to the women of his family. Bella was harassing Rodolphus, and the others were laughing and gushing over the babies in the room and gossiping. Sirius frowned. No, he could not depend upon them for this. If the women had their way, they would make sport of finding a wife for him. Sirius shuddered to think of the multitudes of women he would be forced to meet and make polite conversation with. He looked back to Lucius. Lucius, as a man, would understand that he had neither the time nor inclination for such things.

"Lucius," he began, "I am afraid I must ask I favor of you." Lucius nodded, understanding exactly to what the younger man was referring.

Lucius tapped his chin in thought. After a few seconds, he slowly said, "Most of the women we know are already promised or not worthy of your family name. But I believe I can find someone. I shall inform you promptly, of course."

"Of course," Sirius echoed.

And inform Sirius Lucius did. A few days later, while Sirius was watching Harry play in the parlor, Lucius came strolling through the fireplace. Sirius looked up with a raised brow. Lucius had not called to confirm a visit. This was either an emergency or a very important conversation. Sirius stood to shake his kinsman's hand and picked up Harry. "Drink," Sirius asked.

"Why not," Lucius answered as they sat. Sirius jerked his head to a house elf, who returned quickly with two glasses of wine.

Sirius placed Harry in his lap, holding his wine glass out of the toddler's reach. "Daddy!" he cried, reaching for the glass. Sirius held back a smile. It had been some time since Harry had stopped calling Sirius by that ridiculous name Potter called him. He had begun to refer to Sirius properly and had not cried for his mudblood mother in weeks. He had learned the names of most of the family members and still harbored deep joy at pulling Regulus's hair.

"Now," Sirius said dodging one of Harry's flailing hands, "I assume you did not come here just for a spot of wine?"

Lucius smiled as he lowered his glass. "Your mother is not about, is she?" he asked.

Sirius frowned slightly. "No," he answered, "she is sleeping upstairs. Why do you ask?"

"You wanted to keep the women out of this, did you not," Lucius asked with a smirk. Sirius offered him a smirk of his own, both brows raising towards his hair line. "I believe I have found a suitable woman for you. She is a first cousin once removed of one of my second cousins, if I have that right." Both men shared a smirk at the utter absurdity of the ties of pure-blooded families. No matter how distant a cousin, they knew just how every one was related. "I met her once at some family gathering. She's French but speaks English fine. Not that you don't know French or anything," he continued with a wave of his hand.

"Indeed," Sirius said. Learning multiple languages was just another of the many things that were expected of heirs and heads of families such as the Blacks and Malfoys. People such as Lucius and Sirius were too educated to ever be considered in the least bit dim witted.

Lucius continued, "Her family does not arrange marriages, so she is not promised to anyone. If her normal behavior is anything like the show she put on when I met her, she'll make a good lady of the manor. Not the ideal woman you've been fantasizing about, but a decent compromise." Sirius scoffed at Lucius's teasing tone.

Sirius leaned back in his chair and took a sip from his wine glass. He had absolutely no wish to parade himself about in front of giggling, gossiping women. He did not want to waste his time and effort on such things. It was better used serving the Dark Lord. He needed to accept a marriage and accept it soon. But his blasted inner voice kept interjecting. He needed someone he could trust Harry with, but, if honest with himself, Sirius did not think that he would easily find such a person. Yes, he felt he could trust Lucius with finding a suitable woman for him, but still that damned voice whispered on.

"Would you choose her, Lucius," Sirius asked softly.

Lucius nearly chocked on his wine. "Excuse me," he asked after recovering.

"If a wife had not been picked for you and you were in a situation similar to mine, would you choose this woman," he said.

Lucius regarded him with cold grey eyes. It was some minutes later that the older man finally answered, "Yes. Yes, I think I would choose her."

Sirius nodded. "Then I will see her," he said.

Lucius stood and placed his empty glass on the tray the elf had brought it on. "I will arrange for her to come to England," he said.

Sirius stood and held Harry firmly in his arms as he bade his cousin's husband farewell. Sirius remained standing in the parlor long after the green flames had died down. Finally he looked down at Harry, who was staring up at him with inquisitive grey eyes. "Here's to your new mother, Harry," he said in a low voice.

It was some days later that Walburga mentioned an upcoming party over afternoon tea with her sons. It seemed a rather rushed event, in her opinion, rather unlike Narcissa. As she explained to her sons, Narcissa had seen fit to throw a rather elaborate ball together for the next weekend. It was hardly time to prepare something on the scale Narcissa was planning, but Walburga could do nothing more than mutter her concerns. It seemed that all of the acceptable family was invited as well as many of the other Old Families. It was a grand idea with absolutely no noticeable motivation behind it. Walburga was suspicious of it, as was Bella, who stopped by for a few moments to deliver a message to Sirius from the Dark Lord.

"Narcissa never does things like this," Bella said, as Sirius helped her to ease into a chair. "She takes time to plan out every detail. I will not pretend that Narcissa is not a wonderful and apt hostess, but this is too much even for her." She moved a hand gingerly to her bulging stomach. Sirius said nothing. Of course he knew this ball was just an excuse for Lucius's cousin's cousin or whatever to come to England. But he was not about to share that information with any of his family members yet.

"Does it really matter," Regulus asked, picking up a biscuit from the tray. "Narcissa was probably just bored and got it into her head to have a party. Not like she's never done it before." Sirius nodded in agreement. "She was probably just really, really bored this time," the younger continued.

Walburga and Bella shared a glance that seemed to say "Men!" Bella, with a degree of difficulty, pushed herself up from the chair. "I must be off," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "There is a matter of business I forgot to discuss with the Dark Lord at the last meeting. He will be pleased to hear it as soon as possible."

Her cousins and aunt bade her farewell as she moved towards the fireplace. Bella reached up to take a handful of Floo Powder but suddenly stopped short. She stood rigidly in front of the fireplace, hand shaking in the air. "Bella, dear," Walburga asked.

Bella turned to them, face white and eyes wide. Her hands were clasped firmly over her stomach. "My water just broke," she whispered.

Immediately Walburga shot up and adopted a rather military like persona. "Regulus, quickly, go fetch Rodolphus. Sirius, get her upstairs and to a bed. Help her get out of those robes," she ordered. Regulus was gone in a flash of green flames, and Walburga made to call the family healer.

Sirius quickly scooped Bella up in his arms and raced up the stairs as carefully as possible. He sat her down on one of the beds of a guest room, and his older cousin was already beginning to sweat and was breathing heavily. Sirius threw open drawers looking for some simpler garment than the one Bella was currently wearing. They were in Bella's old room so there was sure to be some left over clothing. Sure enough, Sirius found an old nightgown. He moved back over to his cousin and helped her to remove her heavy robes. He offered his arm for her to hold herself up as she squirmed out of her petticoats. With their joint efforts, they got Bella into the nightgown and down in bed just as Walburga arrived with the healer, Regulus and Rodolphus in tow.

Rodolphus immediately moved to his wife's side and took her hand. She gripped it tightly. While the healer arranged his potions to ease the pain of childbirth, Sirius looked to the door to see Rodolphus and Bella's son peeking in. He was only about five and surely had no clue what was happening to his mother. Sirius walked over and took the boy downstairs to the kitchens. He fetched a plate of cookies and placed them before the boy.

He nibbled on one for a few minutes before looking up with wide brown eyes. "Sirius, what's wrong with Mother?"

Sirius offered the boy a small smile. "Don't worry, Castor," he said. "It's just the baby coming." Castor brightened considerably and reached for another cookie. After he had finished off two more cookies, Castor walked back upstairs with Sirius to retrieve Harry from the nursery. They went back downstairs to send a firecall to Lucius and Narcissa. The couple came over quickly with Draco. They set the cousins down to play, Castor building walls with their toy blocks for the younger boys.

It was some hours later that Walburga came downstairs to inform them that the baby was born and Bella wanted to see Castor. Sirius picked up Harry, Narcissa gathered Draco, and they followed up the stairs behind the young boy. Castor peeked shyly into the room, and Sirius nudged him forward. They peered into the room behind the boy. Bella was still in the bed, holding a tiny bundle, and Rodolphus was rearranging her damp hair on top of her head. Bella looked up with tired grey eyes and saw her son standing in the doorway. With an equally tired smile, she waved him forward. Rodolphus reached down and lifted his son up onto the bed next to his mother.

Walburga smiled from amongst the remainder of the family crowded in the doorway. "It's a little girl," she said softly. Sirius smiled. Thank God, the women wouldn't be able to degrade another boy with their constant petting.

"Have they named her," Narcissa asked.

Walburga nodded and answered, "Capella Kastra." They stood watching the small portion of their family until Bella and Rodolphus remembered their presence. Finally, they were called forth and allowed to see the baby.


	11. Adrienne

**Chapter 11**

The ball took place as scheduled two weeks later. The Malfoy's hall was superb as ever. The best tapestries hung from the ceiling, and the good silver candlestick holders lined the windows of the ballroom. The guests were in their best gowns and robes. The hosting couple wore blues that wonderfully complimented their pale complexions. Narcissa greeted the guests graciously as they entered the ballroom, where the small orchestra was playing in a corner. Lucius shook hands heartily with the males and kissed the women's hands in a gentlemanly fashion. Narcissa kissed Sirius's cheek as he walked in with his mother, Regulus and Megara behind them. "Cousin," she greeted. Sirius offered her a small smile. "Aunt," she turned to the older woman with a sweet smile. "Are you well this evening?"

Sirius shook hands with his cousin's husband. "Lucius," he said.

"Sirius," Lucius returned. He lowered his voice to add, "She made it." Sirius nodded. He cast the elder a questioning look. Lucius scanned the crowd gathered down on the main floor. "Over there," he said, motioning with his wine glass. "The red head with the blue dress," he clarified.

Sirius nodded, seeing the woman talking with three other women that he recognized from the extensive Malfoy family. "Not immediately, I should think," Sirius said casually.

"Not at all," Lucius said with a laugh, "else you should seem blunt and perhaps desperate."

"A Black is never desperate," Sirius recited. Lucius laughed. Sirius scoffed and said, "Come along, Mother. Let's get you a seat." He gently drew his mother away from her niece, and the two women made quick plans to pick up their conversation after Narcissa could leave the entrance.

Sirius and his mother descended the golden staircase, Regulus and Megara a step behind. Sirius and his brother quickly found a chair for their mother along the wall so that she would not have to stand for long. Regulus and Megara departed to mingle with those of their own age, and Sirius was free to move else where when Bella came up to speak with her aunt.

Sirius soon found himself caught up in a rather long and detailed conversation with the Warrington brothers. He had not realized how much time had passed until Lucius came up behind him. "Ah, Lucius," one of the brothers said, raising a glass, "my compliments to your dear wife. She has outdone herself yet again."

"Yes, indeed," Lucius said with a smirk. "She has a knack for this sort of thing, does she not?"

"She is a woman, after all," Sirius said. "And a Black at that. Of course, she would be superb in whatever she does."

The other brother laughed. "Ah, the ever famous Black modesty." Sirius shot him a glare. "A jest," he said in quick defense. "A mere jest."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Lighten up a bit, cousin," he said with a nudge to Sirius's ribs. Sirius shook his head, a small smile forming in spite of himself. "Now, Sirius, I have a matter I wish to discuss with you." He made a motion with his free hand, and the two high ranking Death Eaters walked away from the lower class brothers.

"Well," Sirius asked in a low tone as they weaved through the guests in the room.

"Narcissa has set up specific times for dance," Lucius explained. "She recommends the second round, which starts in an hour."

"Good Lord," Sirius muttered.

Lucius nodded. "She suspects that if you were to immediately woo her with your manly wiles, it might look a little staged." Sirius turned and glared at him. "Narcissa's words, not mine," Lucius defended himself.

"It's all a conspiracy against me," Sirius muttered. Lucius laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Now, what was this girl's name again?"

"Adrienne," Lucius answered, "Adrienne Delamater."

"Lovely," Sirius said monotonously.

"I'll leave you to it," Lucius said, departing to find his wife for the first wave of dance.

The orchestra started up again almost immediately, and Sirius hid his grimace as he was set up to dance with one of the Crabbe girls. Sirius knew how to dance, and he knew how to dance well, but he had no wish to do so. He maintained that these were the things of women.

He quickly offered the girl to some young man from the Nott family. Squeezing through the crowd, Sirius moved to the wall and took a seat next to his mother. "I see that the aspect of dancing has not become any dearer to your heart," she said with a smirk. If she had not been his mother, Sirius might have said something rude. Sirius leaned back in the chair and flicked a piece of flint from his black pants. "Narcissa has out done herself, do you not agree? This is most spectacular."

Sirius nodded. Yes, wonderful, of course, it was all fine and dandy. He just wanted to meet this girl and be done with it all. He was sick of parties and pretending to enjoy himself. There had to be better ways to find entertainment. And to think, he could be doing something as childish and amusing as charming toilets right then.

Sirius shook his head, dismissing the thought. Preposterous.

Finally the first wave of dancing had passed, and Lucius was immediately standing over Sirius. The two men offered Walburga a slight bow of their heads before departing for a place to speak more privately. "Yes," Sirius asked.

"Narcissa is speaking to her," Lucius reported. "She is showering light upon your person and things of that nature. You know, making you out to be better than you are." Sirius chuckled. "We'll just stand here and talk until the next dancing wave. Then, when I go to fetch Narcissa, you come with me and ask Adrienne to dance."

"My favorite pastime," Sirius said sarcastically.

"You know you have to do it," Lucius said. "Just because you're a Black doesn't mean that even you can waltz up to a woman and demand her hand in marriage. She won't immediately swoon."

"I know that," Sirius said. "I just don't like the process of it all. I'm ready for it to be over and done with."

"Oh, Sirius," Lucius said sympathetically, placing a hand on his shoulder, "It hasn't even begun."

Sirius resisted the childish urge to make a gagging face. His grey eyes scanned the room as he swirled his wine glass. Across the room and between circles of chattering aristocrats, Sirius's eyes fell on Narcissa and a woman whose face showed obvious Malfoy characteristics. Her sharp blue eyes locked with Sirius's. They held each other's gaze for a few seconds before she turned back to speak with his cousin. Narcissa nodded at something the other woman said.

Some thirty minutes later the orchestra announced that they would begin playing in a few minutes time. Lucius nodded to Sirius, and the two men crossed the room. Lucius bowed to his wife and kissed her hand. Narcissa giggled girlishly. Remembering their manners, the Malfoys turned away from each other. "Adrienne," Lucius said, "enjoying yourself, I assume?"

"But of course, Lucius," the red headed woman said in a very heavy French accent. "I can only complain of your food. Et es too 'eavy."

"All French women say that," Narcissa said good-naturedly. Adrienne smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. "Oh, but where are our manners? Adrienne, this is my cousin, Sirius Black. Sirius, this is a distant cousin of Lucius's, Adrienne Delamater." Sirius took the woman's offered hand and kissed the knuckles. "Sirius is the head of my family and a very high ranking individual," Narcissa continued, hinting his position in the Dark Lord's army.

Adrienne raised a slim brow, an intrigued look flashing through her eyes. Sirius resisted the urge to raise his own brow. He had seen that look before. However, he ignored it. The orchestra started up the music, and Lucius swept Narcissa away. Holding his silence, Sirius motioned out towards the dance floor. Adrienne took his offered arm, and they joined the other colorful couples.

Sirius held her hand out and placed an arm on the small of her back. Adrienne took hold of her long skirts with one glove covered hand. They moved in time to the music, following the ballet of glittering gowns and robes. The walls sparkled around them, glowing with the light of the candles and chandelier. They twirled and spun, feet moving in the difficult patterns they had known since childhood.

"Zis muzic es not so melodious as French muzic, I should zink," she said. Sirius just stared at her. She was a beautiful woman, the smooth, fair skin of her face was flawless, and her jaw and chin were chiseled sharply as were most members of the Malfoy family. Her eyes were a deep, boring blue, accented by long lashes and thin brows. Her long hair was a beautiful golden-red, the color of the sky during the setting sun. Glittering jewels decorated her hair, ears, and neck, falling down to the crease of her noticeable breasts. Her gown was a deep navy that matched her eyes exactly, undoubtedly dyed by magic. All in all, she was gorgeous. But she sounded insufferable.

"You are ze silent type, no," she asked, her red lips curled in a sly smile. "Not talkative?"

"I speak when I have something to say," Sirius answered simply as he spun her out. He pulled her back in, and Adrienne rested her hand on his well-built chest. She smiled slyly again, rubbing her hand up and down his chest. Sirius raised a brow as he looked down at her. What in Merlin's name was she doing being so forward?

"You are a strong one," she giggled. Sirius blinked down at her. Her smile faltered for a second, but she quickly recovered. "You are couzin to Lucius? By Narcissa, yes?" Sirius nodded. "Yes, your couzin es very preetty." Sirius nodded again. "You are very preetty too."

Sirius was taken aback. "Pretty," he choked out. Adrienne nodded.

"Yes, very preetty," she confirmed, grabbing hold of his jaw as if to inspect him properly. "Perhaps you prefer 'andsome?"

"It would better console my manhood and prevent damaged pride," Sirius said. Adrienne laughed, placing a delicate, gloved hand over her mouth.

They continued to dance but fell into silence. Sirius bluntly ignored the rather suggestive looks the French woman was shooting him. He wasn't too sure of this anymore, not that he was ever really sure to begin with. He just wanted to end this. He wanted to leave this ball. He wanted to go home, do his duty to the Dark Lord, play with Harry. Anything to get him out of here! He had no desire for awkward silences and small talk with women.

The orchestra ended their piece. Sirius and Adrienne bowed to each other, as did the rest of the couples. Sirius made to excuse himself from her presence, but he caught the piercing gazes of both Lucius and Narcissa. Lucius shook his head, and Narcissa was giving him a look that clearly said he would be in for a world of hurt—head of the family or not—if he did not stay and talk to the woman. Repressing a sigh, Sirius offered Adrienne an arm and escorted her from the dance floor. He motioned to two empty seats. She lowered herself into one, and Sirius retrieved drinks. Adrienne sipped daintily on her champagne, while Sirius took larger gulps than he normally would have. The silence between them was heavy.

Sirius felt he needed to break it. "So, you are French." It wasn't really a question. It wasn't much of an intelligent statement either. Adrienne giggled and nodded. "How's that?" Sirius wondered when he had become so ineloquent. Certainly he had spoken much less like some common mudblood a few minutes ago.

"Et es wonderful!" Adrienne said, her eyes finally showing off some real emotion. "Oh, you are merely Eenglish, so you cannot understand. To be French es to nearly be divine!"

Sirius raised a brow. Patriotic much?

Adrienne spoke for nearly another hour on the supposed superiority of the French to the British. Sirius wanted to turn his wand on himself. The Cruciatus was sounding quite lovely about now, maybe even the Killing Curse. Sirius's champagne glass had long since run out, and it would have been considered rude to grab another while she was speaking. He held in a sigh. He needed to be drunk for talk like this.

Finally, Sirius was saved when Regulus came over. "Sirius, I think it's time Mother got home. She's getting tired," the younger Black said.

Sirius's face lit up as he jumped up from the chair. "Yes, of course," he said. "I shall take her back. You stay here with Megara. Wouldn't want to lose out on any time, would you," he added jokingly. Regulus offered him a mock glare before returning to his fiancée. Sirius turned to Adrienne, who was staring at him with a raised brow. "My brother," Sirius explained quickly. She nodded.

"Well, Adrienne," Sirius said, "I'm afraid I must be going. Unfortunate, to be sure." He smiled flatteringly at her. She returned the flirtatious grin. "We will have to speak again. How long will you be in Britain?"

"For ze next few weeks," she said batting her eyelashes. "I will be 'ere. You may call upon me at any time." She winked. Sirius barely caught it.

He smirked. "Expect it soon," he said. He took her hand and kissed it slowly, never breaking eye contact with her. Sirius then left Adrienne, collected his mother and brought her back to the manor, all the while ignoring her inquiries as to who the lovely woman he had been conversing was.

* * *

The next afternoon, Sirius dressed in his usual attire. He headed for the parlor, stopping only to inform his mother that he was headed for the Malfoy manor. She nodded, and Sirius was soon gone in a flash of green flames.

Sirius emerged from the fireplace in the Malfoy's first floor parlor. He was quickly greeted by a house-elf. "Master and Mistress are out in the gardens, sir," it said. "Tea time. Shall Dottie bring sir to them?"

Sirius nodded and the elf led him out the back of the manor and to the gardens. It was a lovely day, not a cloud to be seen in the sky. The temperature was comfortable, not too hot nor too cold. There was a light breeze to circulate the delightful scent of the exquisite rose garden about the manor grounds. Sirius and the elf walked down the cobblestone path to the edge of the gardens. Sitting at a covered table were Lucius, Narcissa and Adrienne. Lucius was wearing a suit similar to Sirius's own, and the girls were wearing white sundresses and hats that Muggles would have attributed to the turn of the century. Draco was playing with one of the house elves a few yards away. And by playing, it should be noted that Draco was pulling sharply at the elf's large ears.

Sirius walked up to the table. Lucius stood to shake his hand, and Sirius kissed the hands of the women. Lucius offered him a seat beside his kinswoman. Sirius took it and did not miss the sly look Adrienne gave him under the wide brim of her hat. Sirius sipped on the tea that the elf had quickly fetched for him.

They made small talk for sometime, Sirius avoiding what he had really come here to do until it was no longer possible. Lucius was giving him very pointed stares, and his shin was getting sore from Narcissa's kicks.

He stood, offering a hand to Adrienne. "Adrienne," he asked charmingly, "would you perhaps like to take a walk with me through the gardens?"

That sly smile was back. She placed her lacy napkin on the table and took Sirius's hand. "I should like zat," she answered. "I 'ave not yet seen zem." Sirius nodded, and she laced her arm through his. They excused themselves before walking off down the path.

Narcissa and Lucius stared after their disappearing forms for a few seconds. Noting their departure, Draco chirped, "Bye-bye!"

Lucius blew out a relieved breath. "Finally," he muttered. "I was beginning to think he wouldn't do anything." Narcissa had narrowed her eyes after them. "You still think he won't try anything on her? I'm sure he knows how to flirt. She certainly isn't too shy about it, and Sirius's isn't thick."

"I don't trust him," she said. "I want to know what he's doing."

Lucius shook his head. "Malfoys are not spies, Narcissa," he said, a superior tone in his voice.

Narcissa countered him, her blond head held high. "Neither are Blacks," she said with a smirk. "But we occasionally hire them." Lucius looked astonished at the statement coming from his honest wife. "Dottie!"

The elf appeared at Narcissa's side in a low bow. "Yes, Mistress?"

"Follow them, but do not let them know you are there. Report back to me," Narcissa said, and the elf wasted no time running off after the retreating couple. Narcissa, seemingly satisfied, turned back to her tea. She added a bit of sugar and took a sip. Looking up from the cup, she saw Lucius's expression mixed of admiration and surprise. She laughed.

Sirius and Adrienne strolled at a leisurely pace through the gardens. They admired the exquisite floral arrangements and walked around the fountains. "Et es vairy beautiful, _non_," Adrienne asked. Sirius only nodded. "Still ze silent type," Adrienne said with a smile. He shrugged, and one of the corners of Adrienne's red lips tugged further upward. "Es zere nozing zat will get you to speak?"

Sirius chuckled. "I'm sure there is something," he said.

Adrienne let out her own chuckle. "'Ow about you tell me of yourself," she suggested.

"Myself," Sirius asked.

"_Oui_, yourself. I spoke much of myself last night at ze ball. But I know almost nozing of you," she said.

"There isn't much to say," Sirius said. "Narcissa told you all of importance."

Adrienne let out a throaty laugh and leaned closer to him. "Only zat you are 'er couzin and 'ead of ze family. Tell me somezing personal."

Sirius blinked down at her. Something personal? What sort of personal was she talking about? She didn't mean like his work for the Dark Lord, did she? Perhaps she was aiming more for his favorite brand of wine or his favorite color. Yes, he could tell her that.

What came out was a little different.

"My son's third birthday is next week," he said. Almost immediately after the words left his mouth he had the urge to slap himself. He was trying to get her as a wife. He didn't need to chase her off already!

For her part, Adrienne's eyes had widened to an alarming size. She took a few steps back and brought a delicate gloved hand to her mouth. "Your—your son?" she stuttered. "You 'ave a son? But—but I—Narcissa said zat—you are married?"

Sirius stepped towards her. "No, no," he said quickly. "No, I'm not."

"But you 'ave a child!"

"His mother is dead," Sirius said. "She died in the childbirth."

Adrienne gasped and placed a hand lightly over her chest. Her other hand was cupping her cheek. "_Mon Dieu_," she breathed. "I am so sorry. I shouldn't 'ave reacted like zat." She reached out a hand to him. Sirius took it in his own. He ran his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting manner.

"It's all right," he said. "It was a long time ago."

Adrienne blinked rapidly and nodded. "Your son es almost zree, you say? What es 'is name?"

Sirius smiled. "Harry," he answered. "His name is Harry."

"'Arry," she said throatily. "_Il est fort._" Sirius nodded. He spoke a little more of his son, and Adrienne smiled and nodded in all the right places. They settled down on one of the white marble benches around the great fountain in the center of the garden. Adrienne leaned against Sirius's arm. She had long since linked their hands. "I am glad zat you came to see me today," she said, pulling off her sunhat. Her red-golden curls fell down her back.

Sirius smiled down at her, offering her a gentlemanly incline of his head, however, his eyes traveled a bit lower than was considered gentlemanly. She made a small cough. Sirius jerked his grey eyes back to her blue ones. She chuckled. "See somezing you like?"

"Perhaps," Sirius said.

"Zen perhaps you would like to do somezing about it," she purred. Sirius smirked. Perhaps it was a trial and irksome to be having to hunt down and secure a wife. Perhaps he didn't really want to be doing it. But by Salazar's name, that throaty French accent and breasts pressed against his chest sure were helping to make it better. Adrienne leaned up and pressed her lips firmly to his.

From the midst of the rose bushes, Dottie was positively beaming. Her mistress would be very pleased with the information she would present. Her mistress seemed very interested in the union of Master's cousin and Mistress's cousin. This was a positive development. Dottie's cheeks reddened as her mistress's cousin deepened the kiss. Dottie flattened her ears at the noises they were making and silently rushed back to where her family awaited. She should deliver the information now. Yes, now would be a very appropriate time.


	12. Meeting Of Former Brothers

**Chapter 12**

Sirius bent over his suitcase. Adrienne had returned to France two weeks ago after her three-week visit. Sirius had seen her almost every day she had been in England. He had been spending much time at Malfoy Manor. He still had not been completely honest with his mother as to the true reason for his frequent visits. However, the other day, he had received an owl from Adrienne inviting him to her family's home just outside of Paris. He would be spending a week with them. He pulled another shirt from his closet. He probably could have had an elf do this for him. He chuckled to himself. No, the services of all the house elves were currently being focused elsewhere.

There were several loud squeals coming from just outside Sirius's bedroom door. He turned just in time to see the small forms of two young boys zipping into the room, a horde of elves chasing after them. He smiled at the hurried whispers the boys were directing at their sitters. Sirius made a show of tapping his chin and said thoughtfully and loudly, "I must be seeing things. I could have sworn I saw two rather large house elves run into my room." He walked slowly around the bed. There was a large lump on the floor covered with one of his cloaks. "Well, I must have been seeing things. There's nothing there." He tapped the giggling lump with his boot. He must have touched one of the boy's sides, as a particularly loud squeal emitted from the cloak.

He turned away and began to walk out the door. "Oh, if only I knew where Harry and Draco were. I guess I'll have to go down and eat all the cookies by myself," he called over his shoulder.

"No!" There was a loud rustling of cloth, and the boys flew up from the floor and over to Sirius's legs. "I want cookie, Daddy!" Harry cried, tugging on his father's sleeve.

"Unc' Siri," Draco yelled, grabbing the other sleeve. "Cookie! Cookie!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. How easy it was to persuade children! "Well, maybe just a few," he said. The boys both cheered and attempted to jump up to his shoulders. Sirius lowered himself to his knees to give them better access. He then stumbled down the flights of stairs to the kitchen. When he entered with his load, his mother was sitting at the table with a friend. Both ladies blinked oddly at him.

"Sirius," Walburga said, "you seem to have acquired two growths." Her friend smiled.

"Indeed, I don't know how I'll ever get them off," he said dramatically. However, the boys were hanging on rather tightly. He might need to find a crowbar to pry them off.

"I believe the remedy will be easily found," their guest stated. Walburga nodded her head in agreement and held up two cookies. Quite suddenly, Sirius was relieved of his load. The boys crashed to the floor and jumped up unfazed. They ran for Walburga and squealed with delight at their sugary treats.

"What do we say, Harry," Walburga reminded her grandson.

"Thanks, Gamma," Harry said between bites. Walburga smiled and looked to Draco with a raised brow. The other boy was too involved with his cookie to notice until Harry nudged his arm. Draco looked up with full cheeks. He realized why all eyes were on him, so he quickly swallowed and said his thanks. The boys were each rewarded another cookie, and they ran out of the kitchen giggling, the house elves in hot pursuit.

Walburga turned to her son as soon as the giggles of her younger kin had faded. She raised a dark brow. "Have you finished preparing for your journey," she asked, raising her teacup to her lips.

"Nearly," Sirius said, seating himself and reaching for a cup. What seemed to be the only house elf not chasing the two toddlers poured the warm liquid he desired. "I'll have one of the elves check it while the children are napping."

"And you will be gone a week?" He nodded. Walburga fixed him with a suspicious glance. "And what are you really going there for?"

Sirius blinked, but he showed no other signs of surprise. "I have discussed this with you, Mother. The Dark Lord has sent me there on business."

Walburga smiled behind her teacup. "You cannot fool your own mother," she said. Her friend laughed lightly. Sirius blinked again. How did she figure these things out? Narcissa had better not have opened her gossiping mouth. "There is more than business to this trip."

"Don't be foolish, Mother," Sirius said, again refusing to show any emotion. "The Dark Lord demands foreign servants as well." Walburga merely smiled behind her cup again. Sirius finished his tea and excused himself. He finished his packing and called for an elf to finish the process.

* * *

Sirius arrived at the Port Key appearance point in Paris early the next afternoon. It had taken longer than expected to pry Harry off of his leg. Immediately, a man approached him. In the thick French accent, he said, "Monsieur Black?" Sirius nodded. "Ah, monsieur, I am ze chauffeur of ze Delamater family. My name es Ansel. Zey sent me to bring you to ze estate." He took Sirius's bag and motioned for the younger man to follow him. Ansel led Sirius to a horseless carriage, which proved to be both invisible and flying. They arrived at the Delamater family home in under a half hour.

The carriage touched down on the gravel road leading up to the expansive white manor. Twelve white columns held up the great grey roof. Just on the front of the house, there were four wire balconies, white curtains blowing in the light breeze. Behind the house, Sirius could see part of an open garden. There were a number of statues lining the road and the steps to the house.

A fairly impressive summer home.

Ansel took Sirius's bags from the carriage and motioned for Sirius to follow him inside the mansion. The large oak doors were opened from the inside by door servants. Sirius stepped onto the shinning marble floor. "Oh, Sirius!" Sirius looked up. Leaning over the oak banister was Adrienne. She pulled up her pink skirts and flew gracefully down the stairs. She jogged up to him and threw her arms around his neck. They leaned into each other and kissed.

Adrienne drew back and smiled slyly at him, her hands sliding up his chest. There was a small cough from the door. Sirius looked over his should to see Ansel with his white-gloved hand over his mouth and eyes staring innocently at the ceiling. Adrienne let out the closest thing to a snort a lady of her stature was capable of before saying, "Take Monsieur Black's zings to 'is room, Ansel. Be quick about eet." The elderly man nodded and took Sirius's bag up the stairs.

Andrienne waited until he was out of earshot before saying, "Eet 'as been too long, _mon amor._ Such a lonely two weeks."

Sirius smiled down at her. "Indeed," he said, flashing his sparkling teeth. He snaked his arms around her waist, chuckling at her giggle. Sirius was about to pull her closer when two small forms ran into the room.

The colorful blurs proved to be two young girls, both with bouncing blond curls tied back with ribbons. The girls each latched themselves to one of Adrienne's legs. They stared up at Sirius with the same blue eyes the older woman had. Sirius stared back. Finally, one of the girls whispered in a tone she seemed to think Sirius would not hear, "Es zat 'im, Liz?"

The other smiled and sighed, "'E es preetty."

Sirius looked back up at Adrienne and arched a brow. She covered her red lips with a gloved hand. "Pretty," Sirius asked her monotonously.

"Vairy preetty," the little girl said.

Adrienne laughed lightly and said, "Sirius, allow me to introduce my youngest seester, Geneva, and my niece, Soleil. Both are seven. _Petites_, zis es Sirius Black." The girls giggled and walked out from behind Adrienne's legs.

Geneva and Soleil smiled up at him with little, white smiles. Sirius, not being one for children other than his son, attempted to smile at them. They didn't seem to mind what Sirius was sure was a near grimace. "Liz, 'e es preettier zan you said 'e was," Geneva said.

Sirius arched his brow at Adrienne again. "Zat es enough, _petites_," she said with a sharp clap of her hands. "Into ze parlor." The girls giggled and ran off. Adrienne turned back to face Sirius, who was still staring at her with a questioning expression. "What?"

"Liz?"

Adrienne smiled. "_Oui_," she said, "My middle name es Elizabeth. Ze closest to me in ze family call me zat." Sirius nodded. "But come, you must meet ze rest of my family." She took his hand and led him through the house. They entered a pale pink room with several people seated on couches and chairs. A middle-aged couple stood and walked over to meet them. "Sirius, allow me to introduce my parents, Caprice and Rene. _Mère, Père, _zis is Sirius Black." Sirius shook hands with Rene and kissed the back of Caprice's hand.

Adrienne then turned to the rest of the people and said, "Zose two are my oldest seesters, twins, Bridgette and Bebe. Zeir 'usbands, Corin and Jules. My brozer, Lionel. Aunt Linette and Uncle Mortimer. Anozer seester,Valerie. Grandmozer Antonie. You 'ave already met Geneva and Soleil. Where are Jean Pierre and ze ozer boys?"

Caprice said, "Running about ze gardens, _naturellement_. Ze are boys."

Adrienne smiled. "My cousins. You will meet zem at dinner." Sirius just nodded, still trying to mentally link names and faces.

"Eet es much to take in, _non_," Caprice asked. "Geeve eet time. But for now, Liz, take 'im to 'is rooms. Dinner will be at seven o'clock." Adrienne nodded, and she and Sirius offered the family a bow as they retreated from the parlor. They traveled up the marble stairs and down the hall. After several turns, Adrienne opened the door leading to Sirius's rooms. She stepped to the side to allow Sirius entry.

As soon as both were inside, Adrienne shut the door sharply and pushed Sirius against it. Their lips met hungrily. Sirius snaked his arms around her small waist as she grinned slyly. Sirius shot her a lopsided grin of his own. "I take it that you missed me," he said.

"Perhaps," she said leaning up to him again. The couple spent the next few hours alone before dinner.

* * *

Sirius returned home one week later, much to his son's joy. He was hardly home for an hour when his left forearm began to burn. He ripped his cloak from the hanger and disappeared through the green flames of the parlor fireplace in a matter of seconds.

Sirius reappeared in the dark depths of Riddle Manor. He quickly journeyed to the place where his master was and took his place at Lord Voldemort's right side. The room was quickly filled with his servants. Voldemort, Sirius and Bella stood before the crowd of Death Eaters. The room was deathly silent.

"We have been lax," the cold voice of the Dark Lord hissed through the hall. "It has been far too long since our last raid." The company remained silent, awaiting final instructions.

"Sirius," Voldemort commanded. "You have your orders."

Sirius bowed. "Dragon Team with me. Lucius and Sphinx Team follow in five minutes. Diversion team, go," Sirius said loudly. There was a loud chorus of pops in which the first attack wave disappeared. Sirius gave it a few minutes before giving his team the signal to Apparate.

They reappeared in the chaos that was now Hogsmeade. Sirius was immediately forced to dive behind a bench to avoid a stray curse. "Don't deter from the mission," Sirius yelled. "Get going!"

Sirius and his team were still about fifty yards from their desired location. Leading the way, Sirius sprinted down the street, dodging spells and pieces of rubble. He fired curses in the direction of the Aurors. Right on schedule, he saw Lucius and his team appear down the street.

They reached the Three Broomsticks pub. Sirius hunched down outside the door. It burst open and a young man ran out. Sirius threw his spell. In a flash of green light, the nameless man fell to the ground. Sirius smirked and motioned with his hand. His troops raced inside the building, wands at the ready. Sirius smiled at the sound of screams. He stepped calmly inside.

A young woman was curled in corner, a screaming toddler pressed to her chest. One man tried to take out his wand and fight back, but he was struck down by two Death Eaters. The pub owner was being held with a wand to her head. Several people were cowering under tables. Sirius surveyed the room. Four of his men were running up the stairs to contain any surprises. Sirius smirked.

From behind the bar, there came a flash of red. Sirius jerked to the side to avoid it. He turned back to the bar, eyes blazing. "Show yourself," he demanded. There was no answer. Sirius motioned to three of his guards. They slowly moved forward, and after a brief scuffle, they drew out the surprise attacker. Crabbe and Goyle kept tight hold of the man's arms. His amber eyes blazed at Sirius. Sirius, however, only chuckled. "Greetings, werewolf," he said pleasantly.

Remus Lupin snarled at his former friend. Over the past year, he, unlike the Potters, had come to see the Sirius Black he had once known as dead. This man masquerading as Sirius was a monster, and Remus had no desire to beg with him as James and Lily did, even after the kidnapping of their son.

"Enjoying an after work drink," Sirius asked. "I'm terribly sorry to cut it short."

"Go to hell, Black," Remus said.

Sirius scoffed. "Such rude manners," he said, flicking his wand. Remus was hit by a red blast and fell to the floor screaming in agony. Sirius and the other Death Eaters watched in glee.

"Sir," one of the posts ran in yelling, "Dumbled—" He was cut off by an explosion of magic. Sirius whirled around to face the doorway, and several of the Death Eaters moved into either defensive or attack positions.

Albus Dumbledore walked into the pub in a rather calm manner. As Sirius had no respect for the man, it angered him. How dare he strut in here like that? And what was Lucius doing out there? He was supposed to contain him. "Welcome to the Three Broomsticks, Dumbledore," he greeted with a sneer. "Recently put under new management." He laughed as he heard Rosemerta cry out.

"I will ask you once to release her," Dumbledore said calmly.

"I think not, old man," Sirius said. Dumbledore shrugged and in a flash was behind the Death Eater holding the young woman. With a quick Stunning Spell, she was out. Rosemerta took her opportunity to hide behind her bar. Sirius glared at him.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said heavily as he lifted his wand, "I do not wish to fight you. James has told you what Voldemort has done to you. You were a dear friend and ally."

"A Black ally himself with a Gryffindor like you," Sirius laughed. "Surely you jest. You and Potter must be mixing something off in your tea." He raised his own wand.

They battled for some minutes. Sirius wasn't sure if the old man was fighting to the fullest of his abilities. He knew he certainly wasn't. Sirius thought of the last time he had played games under the Dark Lord's direct orders. He frowned. "_Avada Kedarva_!" The green blast was sidestepped.

Dumbledore shot an Impediment Curse at him. Sirius blocked it with a shield. He rolled behind a table. Leaping out, he yelled, "_Reducto!_" The old man dove to the ground barely a second before the curse reached him. It missed but blew out half of the wall. Sirius cursed.

He sprang to his feet, wand out and ready to fire his next curse. Then suddenly, he was hit from behind. He cried out in pain and grabbed his side. He could feel blood gushing from a newly made wound. His stormy eyes glanced down and saw the werewolf glaring up at him with a raised wand. Sirius screamed the Killing Curse, but Dumbledore threw a large chunk of the former wall in its path.

Sirius dropped to one knee. Crabbe was by his side, lifting him up. Goyle had cast a shield around them. Running together, they jumped out the side of the building. Sirius tried to push the larger man away. "No, damn it," Sirius yelled. "We have a mission."

"You can't complete it injured, Sirius," Crabbe said. "And you're no use to the Dark Lord dead."

"Dead my ass," Sirius yelled, punching the older man in the face. The force caused him to loosen his hold on the commander. Sirius turned around and ran back into the pub. He cursed loudly. Dumbledore and the werewolf were gone, along with all the other civilians. He turned on his heel and raced down the street in search of his cousin.

Sirius found Lucius, along with five other men, positioned behind a large piece of rubble, engaged with about ten Aurors across the street. Sirius dove behind the debris, ignoring the great pain in his side and forcing down the urge to wince. "What the hell happened," he immediately demanded. Lucius barely had time to spare him a glance. "Is it so hard to distract an old man for ten minutes? _Reducto!_" Sirius felt grim satisfaction at the horror filled scream that followed.

"Nothing ever goes according to plan, Sirius," Lucius shot back.

"Damn it," Sirius cursed. "The whole mission's a waste."

"We still have them outnumbered three to one," Lucius contradicted. Sirius growled and ducked down as an explosion wracked over their heads. The ground shook, and he lost his footing for a second. He hit his side on the wreckage shielding them from direct attack. This time he didn't hold in a hiss.

Lucius noticed. "What," he asked.

"Nothing," Sirius said through gritted teeth.

"You're injured," Lucius correctly assumed. "Get out of here."

"No," Sirius said.

"Leave, Sirius," Lucius yelled. "That's an order."

Sirius grinned doggishly. "I outrank you, soldier," he said smartly.

"Then it's a threat and a personal concern," Lucius said. "Narcissa—not to mention your mother—will rip me apart if anything happens to you. And you're no good in combat if you're injured. Leave." Sirius just glared.

"Fine. _Stupefy!_"

Sirius's eyes barely had time to widen before the spell hit him. Immediately, he fell slack. Lucius pushed his cousin into a subordinate's arms. "Get him out of here." Lucius turned his attention back to the battle after the crack that signified the disappearance of the two Death Eaters. Sirius would be furious when he woke up, but at least he wouldn't be dead.


	13. A Wedding

**Chapter 13**

The holiday season was fast approaching. Snow was spread in a constant blanket over the ground to be kicked and thrown by children. Streets and homes were decorated accordingly with the season. Although highly stressed with the necessary shopping and events, most people remained in good cheer.

Sirius, decidedly, did not like Christmas. Everyone was grinning from ear to ear, the house elves had put so much tinsel around the house Sirius couldn't turn his head without it smacking him in the face, and the children were going crazy. People were too happy. Sirius did not do giddy and happy and warm and fuzzy.

It was Harry's first Christmas. Or rather, it was his first Christmas as a Black. For the past two years, Sirius had bluntly ignored the holiday season. He had focused, instead, on missions for the Dark Lord. Christmas had meant nothing to him. He would have loved to keep it that way. But he couldn't deny Harry the prospect of a wonderful holiday. Harry had known exactly what was going to be happening as soon as December had rolled around. Sirius didn't understand how a three year old managed dates like that.

Of course, the older cousins weren't helping Sirius's situation much. The older children were filling Draco and Harry's heads with all sorts of Christmas tales, most notably things like Father Christmas. All Sirius knew was that he was tired of hearing the two young boys giggle endlessly about "Santa." However, they were behaving themselves a bit more, something about a Naughty List.

What Sirius wouldn't have given for a raid! But the Dark Lord had forbidden them until after the time of year had ended. Of course, the Dark Lord hadn't done so out of charity and good will of the season, but merely because he was no fool. While the immensely packed Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade would have delivered abundant victims and damage to the Light, there would be so many Aurors and Order members on guard that no one would be able to blink strangely without seven wands and badges shoved in their faces.

As if no chance of raids and high energy concentrated children weren't enough, Narcissa had forced Sirius to invite Adrienne to the manor for the holidays. She said it was high time for the family to meet her and know of Sirius's purpose. She also said that it was also high time for him to propose to her. He certainly knew that that was something he would have to do, and surely Adrienne knew of his intentions by now, as they had been courting for at least six months. After all, people of their stations do not date, Sirius.

Sirius snorted.

Adrienne arrived right on schedule. The Black family was gathered in the large sitting room. The children were playing at the feet of their parents. A house elf entered the room with a low bow. "Master," it said, "there is a guest for master." Sirius stood and followed the elf to the entry hall. He kissed Adrienne's hand in greeting before leading her to the parlor. There was a sparkle in his mother's eyes as Sirius introduced her to his family.

Before dinner, Sirius convinced Adrienne to put on her winter coat to walk with him in the back courtyard. As they were walking out, Lucius passed them, slipping a small box into Sirius's pocket and sending him off with an encouraging nod and mischievous wink. If Sirius had not been a noble man, he would have pounced on him or muttered something colorful.

It was a nice enough night, Sirius thought. The sky was cloudless, an odd enough occurrence, and the stars were shinning brightly. Of course, it was only through magic that they could be seen. London was a bright city, after all. Soft white snow covered the evergreen plants in the courtyard. Adrienne seemed pleased enough with the sight. Sirius didn't really care much for it.

"Sirius, zis es very lovely," she said. Sirius nodded, jaw clenched tightly. He did not want to do this. He was dreading this. He would have gladly taken on the entire ranks of the Aurors and Order of the Phoenix before proposing to a woman. He did not want love. He did not want companionship. He was only doing this to take the responsibilities as Lady of the Manor from his mother. And he was in far too deep to turn around.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Sirius never really gave thought to his own personal enjoyment before, other than with his son. All of his other actions were for his family name and his lord. He couldn't remember the last time he had done something because he wanted to. Would it be so wrong of him to finally give in to that longing now? Would it be so wrong to abandon this woman?

Sirius knew the answer to that. He would get his hide tanned. Lucius would curse him to next year for dishonoring his kinswoman. Narcissa would abandon her wand and just kick him in the shins. His mother would probably have a heart attack.

Harry probably wouldn't mind. Sirius's young son hadn't seemed to like Adrienne much at all. He had hidden behind Narcissa when the Frenchwoman tried to greet him.

Sirius sighed. There was no way around this now. He had treaded into deep waters allowing that ball all those months ago to be held. He had trapped himself going to Malfoy Manor the next day. This was his dishwashing liquid, and now he had to soak in it.

Sirius blinked, wondering where he had come up with such a phrase.

Clearing his throat, Sirius said, "Adrienne." The Frenchwoman turned to face him, one elegant brow raised. Sirius kept his face emotionless and proper, not betraying the rage of emotion going on inside of him. "We have been seeing each other romantically for some time now."

"_Oui_," Adrienne said, her lips twitching a bit.

Sirius nodded. "Yes, it's been a while, and I have been giving this much thought." Well, it certainly wasn't a lie. "And I have come to a conclusion." He was so completely unromantic.

Adrienne blinked up at him as he stepped closed. He took one of her hands in his and dropped to his knees. "Will you do me the honor of becoming the Lady of Black manor?" Reaching into his pocket, Sirius pulled out a large diamond ring. He stared up at her. He had just dug his own grave.

Adrienne stared at the ring for a few seconds with a hungry gleam in her eyes. Then she looked back to Sirius, smiled, and nodded. "_Oui_, I will." Sirius slid the ring on her finger and stood, gathering her in his arms and kissing her.

They remained lip locked for several minutes before Sirius broke away and said, "Come, dinner is soon, and we must share this news with the family." Adrienne smiled and walked back inside with him, her fingers intertwined with his.

Sirius was going to hate this. He could just imagine the looks on his family's faces. Of course, having met Adrienne, they would be expecting this news soon. But when the two of them made the announcement, his relatives would all wear looks of joy or content or satisfaction, as if they were truly delighted that Sirius had found someone to share his life with. The women would just be glad for a wedding as it would bring in many parties and events. Well, at least his mother would truly be pleased. This was one of the things she had been prepping Sirius for since his birth.

The news was taken as expected. The men congratulated Sirius on his fine catch with firm handshakes, and Adrienne showed off her ring to the cooing women. "Mother knew this was coming," Regulus said as their mother shot her elder son a sly smile. "Why didn't you just tell everyone what you were doing?"

"I didn't feel like being dragged into some twisted women's game," Sirius said, taking another glass of champagne. Regulus just chuckled at his brother's grimacing tone.

"The game will be over soon," Lucius said. "I highly recommend that you inform the Dark Lord of all this first thing tomorrow morning." Sirius nodded.

Plans for the wedding began immediately the next day. Adrienne sent a fire call to her family to inform them of the news. Her mother and Sirius's own chatted for some time before Walburga was drawn away to give final approvals of details. The women of the family were efficient. Most of the wedding was planned within a couple of weeks, despite the fact that it wasn't to be held for another five months. Adrienne wanted a nice spring wedding, and the date had been set in May.

Sirius stayed out of the planning, trusting his mother to be his voice in the debates. He instead focused his time with things that he enjoyed: missions for the Dark Lord and raising Harry. It had been very difficult to try and explain the concept of Adrienne becoming Harry's mother to the young boy. He wasn't even four years old yet. Harry was a curious child and had asked many questions about this new woman, like if she was his mother, where had she been for so long?

Sirius would not lie to his son about Adrienne being his real mother. It had been hard to explain remarriage—well, pretend remarriage—and the like to such a young child. Sirius knew by the end of the discussion that Harry still didn't really understand, despite what the little boy said.

The day of the wedding came all too soon for Sirius. He stood in his rooms, dressed in his finest dress robes and groomed to perfection. Harry and Draco were running around his legs, playing a game of tag with the small white pillow Harry would later use to carry the rings. Regulus stood beside him, attempting to manually pin the corsage onto his chest. Sirius crossed his arms as his mother moved to help her younger son, bumbling her words all over the place. "There you are, dear," she said, smoothing Regulus's hair down.

Without warning, Walburga through her arms around her elder son, sobbing hysterically. Sirius grimaced as she attempted to squeeze all life from him. Maybe this was what a corset felt like.

"Oh, would that your father were alive to see this day," she cried. "He'd be so proud of you!"

"Didn't Father hate the French," Regulus asked. Walburga lashed out, smacking him upside the head before returning Sirius to her full death grip. Sirius's left eye began to twitch, and he glared heatedly at Lucius's reflection in the mirror. The older man was trying to hide his amusement behind his hand. Trying and not caring at all that he was failing.

Walburga tightened her grip, which finally resulted in a grunt of displeasure from Sirius. Draco and Harry laughed from behind Lucius's legs. Walburga jumped back a bit and straightened her son's robes. She ran circles around Sirius, picking imaginary lint from his clothes, straightening non-wayward hairs, untying and retying his bowtie. He finally stopped her when she tried re-tucking in his shirt for him. After a few more minutes, she went off to the bridal rooms to check on all the girls.

"For the record," Sirius said to a smirking Lucius, "I blame you."

"Why me," Lucius asked.

Regulus smirked and leaned against the mirror. "It's like Bella always says, 'When all else fails, blame Lucius.'"

Lucius growled. "Is that why I got yelled at for the toilets exploding at Christmas?" Sirius joined Regulus in wild laughter. "I know it was the two of you. It was childish and immature, and I will get you back." The brothers just smirked.

Narcissa came back a few minutes later to inform them that it was time to begin. The slight merriment that Sirius had felt from making fun of Lucius with Regulus drained from his face. Narcissa noticed and walked forward to hug him. She gave him a small smile, patted his cheek, and walked briskly from the room. Lucius laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. Sirius drew in a deep breath and led the other men from the room, moving Harry to his proper spot in the line up and dropping Draco off with his aunt before standing before the altar.

The procession started. Sirius watched it all dispassionately, smiling only when Harry latched onto his leg rather than stand with Lucius and the others in the groom's party. After Harry had been handed over to his uncle, Adrienne was walked down the aisle by her father.

Sirius watched her, not feeling an ounce of emotion for the woman. Yes, he would admit, she looked stunning. They had done a magnificent job prepping her for the day. But that was all Sirius could notice. It was said on weddings that the groom would not be able to see anything other than his bride and wouldn't look away if he could. Sirius held in a sigh. He could certainly see things other than the woman, and if it would not have been immensely rude, he would have looked at something else. Surely the tapestries hanging from the ceiling were more interesting than this.

It was only just hitting Sirius how stupid this whole thing really was. But by now it was certainly too late to even bother wishing it wasn't happening. He didn't love Adrienne in any sense of the word. Why did he allow himself to do this? All she was to him was a physical being. He could allow her to hang from his arm. He could kiss her. He could possess her. But there was nothing else to her. He would certainly not share any great secrets with her. He would not confide in her or seek her council. She would merely be the lady of his manor. She would plan parties. She would reap the benefits of being the wife of the head of the Black family. But there would be nothing more.

Lucius had not loved Narcissa when they had been married. Narcissa had not loved him. They had been attracted to each other physically. They had not loved, but they had been friends to a small degree. They had had real conversations. They had discussed what their lives would be like together. Lucius had told Sirius that, while he had not loved the woman, he had certainly been stunned by her presence when she had walked down the aisle.

Rodolphus had been completely infatuated with Bellatrix. While the Lestranges were a great and wealthy family, Rodolphus had certainly not expected to be promised to the eldest Black daughter. He had always been at her beck and call. It had greatly pleased Bellatrix that her husband was letting her wear the pants, and it had helped her to like him quite a bit very quickly. Sirius was sure Bellatrix would have forced Rodolphus to let her be the dominate spouse had his attitude been otherwise.

Everyone Sirius had spoken to about weddings had felt something for their spouse. Sirius kept the dark expression from crossing his face. Of course, it would have to be him that felt nothing. Of course.

Rene Delamater kissed his daughter's cheeks and presented her to Sirius. Sirius took her hand and helped her up the stairs to the altar. They stood before the priest. The old man began his guidance in the delivering of the vows. Sirius stared forward, acutely aware that had this been a proper wedding, he would have been staring at his bride instead. When the rings were called for, Lucius ushered Harry forward. Sirius was almost unable to keep the smile from his face at the distrustful look Harry shot Adrienne.

The priest announced them man and woman. Sirius leaned down and briefly kissed her. He was officially and totally ensnared in it now. And some people said that serving Lord Voldemort was signing your soul to the devil.

Sirius and Adrienne made their way back down the aisle. Harry took off after them, Draco on his heels. The young boys were scooped up by Narcissa and Lucius, giggling all the way. A large carriage was provided for the groom and bridal parties as transportation to the reception, which was to be held at Malfoy Manor. Harry quickly climbed up into his father's lap, giving Sirius a perfect excuse to not show Adrienne all of his attentions. And Harry found the kiss Adrienne gave her new husband quite "gross," a sentiment Draco, leaning over the back of his father's seat to face his cousin, shared. Sirius smirked. Another foolproof excuse. It wouldn't do to disturb the children, now would it?

* * *

"His wedding was today."

Lily Potter looked over the top of her rather large book at her husband. James walked over to the couch, two teacups in hand. He cleared a spot on the table before her and placed them down. He sat down beside her. Lily leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. "That's right," she said in a soft voice. She brought her teacup to her lips.

James let out a hollow laugh. "He's getting married. The man who swore he'd never tie himself down to one woman, other than you, jokingly, of course," he said heavily.

Lily's lips stretched in a smile. She remembered. She and Sirius had often teased James like that. Neither of them had had the willpower to pass up the chance at seeing James turn redder than a Quaffle. It had made James's jealousy run rampant, but he obviously missed it. "And now he's beaten Remus and Peter, bested only by you."

"Well, I'd been planning to marry you since puberty," James said, sliding an arm around her shoulders.

"But dear," Lily said, her eyes sparkling, "we had Harry after we were married."

James pursed his lips and glared down at her. "Har-de-har," he said, squeezing her shoulders. Lily giggled for a few seconds before they both trailed off into silence again.

James stared up at his ceiling. He couldn't believe it. Sirius was getting married, probably as they spoke. James blinked moisture from his eyes. Before Sirius had declared himself a bachelor for life, they had decided that the other would be best man at their respective weddings. Not much could have made James happier than having his best friend stand beside him while he took Lily as his wife. And James would have been so honored to do the same for Sirius had the other ever found someone who could make him forget about being single.

They knew from Snape that Sirius didn't care at all for the woman he was marrying, that it was purely political. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. James missed Sirius. He wanted his best friend back. It had been three years since Sirius had been taken and over a year since he had kidnapped Harry. Sirius had been striking blow after blow to the light side of this war for so long now. But James still couldn't bring himself to hate the Black, as Remus and several others had.

Even though Sirius had taken her child, Lily stood firmly beside her husband and his opinions. Of course, she wanted Harry back, but she knew that the Sirius they all knew was still locked deep inside the Dark Lord's general. He hadn't allowed Harry to be killed. James and Lily were alone in their opinions of Sirius, they knew that, and it only pushed them further to want him and their son back.

James looked down at his wife. She had returned to her book, part of a Charms research project for the Order. One hand was holding up the book, and her other was draped over her stomach, fingers tapping to some tune in her head. "Are you okay," James asked.

Lily looked up at him in confusion but then noticed his gaze. "Two weeks, James," she said nudging him with an elbow. "I lived through one pregnancy, this one won't be any different."

James sighed and drew her into a tight hug. He kissed the top of her head before resting him cheek against her forehead, smiling as her arms snaked around his waist. "Yeah, I know."


	14. Sirius's New Mission

**Chapter 14**

Sirius sat in his office pouring over the family financial files. He smirked. The family was doing as successfully as ever, and he was making good money. He sat up straight in the chair, feeling satisfied as a few of the bones in his spine cracked. He stretched his stiff arms but winced as his right moved too high. He had been hit particularly hard in a raid last night. Nothing a potion couldn't cure, but it was still leaving him sore for now.

"Hey, Dad," a voice called. Sirius looked up to see his son standing in the office doorway. Harry ran a hand through his hopelessly messy black hair. "Uncle Lucius is here. He says there's something he needs to talk to you about. And he brought Draco, so we're going to go flying in the backyard."

Sirius stood and walked over to his son. He placed a hand on the young boy's shoulder. "Good boy. You need to have those skills of yours perfected before Hogwarts," he said with pride. Harry's flying skills were certainly something to brag about. Despite the boy's young age, he was spectacular, good enough to get on the team during his first year and without money to back it up.

"So I'm definitely going to Hogwarts, then," Harry asked curiously as they descended the stairs. "Not Drumstrang?"

Sirius chuckled. "I was speaking in generalizations," he said. "What does it matter to you? You still have over three years." Harry shrugged. Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the boy and instead shoved him towards the back of the house. "Go practice."

Harry ran down the hall laughing, Draco appearing from the parlor and following. Lucius appeared in a more regal manner behind his son. He looked up at Sirius and nodded in greeting. "Sirius," he said.

"Lucius," Sirius returned. The two men walked back into the parlor and took seats. Sirius, with a flick of his wand, poured drinks. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"My charming smile isn't enough," Lucius asked with a smirk.

Sirius chuckled. "You, sir, are an imbecile. Now what is it?"

Lucius leaned back in his seat and twirled the liquid inside his glass. "Greyback."

Sirius arched a brow. "The werewolf? What about him?"

"The Master is placing him under your direct command," Lucius said.

Sirius frowned. He had better things to do with his time than baby-sit a half mad wolf-man. Greyback required almost constant monitoring, lest he run out and ruin half of the Dark Lord's plans. "Why," Sirius demanded. "What's wrong with her watching him?"

Lucius shrugged. "Bellatrix whined enough, and he listened."

Sirius frowned. "If she weren't my dear cousin," Sirius hissed, "I might have said something rude about her." Lazy, conniving little…

Lucius smirked. "It's not that bad," Lucius said. "You'll be in direct command of the werewolves. That has to be fun on a raid."

Sirius frowned. He didn't quite share Lucius's sentiments. Werewolves were not fun. What they went through each month was not fun. And sending them out to inflict their curse on others presented little amusement to Sirius. If the Dark Lord wanted victims and casualties, Sirius would deliver them with a wand.

Sirius didn't say anything as he observed the older man. Lucius had an odd gleam in his eyes. Sirius knew what that was. There was something more to this than he was being told. Of course, were he to question Lucius, the other would merely play ignorant. The Dark Lord wanted Sirius to do something with the werewolves. But what?

Sirius would ponder it later. He took a sip from his drink and asked, "Anything else?"

"Nothing really note worthy," Lucius said. "I saw Bellatrix while I was at Riddle Manor. She was having a good rant about Severus."

Sirius smirked. For some reason that none of them could really comprehend, Bellatrix hated Severus Snape. She constantly accused him of being a Dumbledore sympathizer and a spy. No one understood her. Snape was at Hogwarts and friendly with Dumbledore under the Dark Lord's direct orders. She became more and more hysterical about it with each passing rant. Sirius was beginning to think she was losing her grip on sanity. Maybe excessive exposure to the Cruciatus worked both ways.

From the hall there were two very loud cheers and the whooshing sound of flying objects. Lucius sighed loudly, and Sirius yelled, "Harry!" The laughter of the boys died down, and Harry floated into the doorway, sitting atop his broom and looking very sheepish. "You too, Draco." Draco appeared at his cousin's side.

"Yes, sir?" Harry asked.

"I believe that your grandmother has been quite vocal with her objections to flying in the house," he said.

"But, sir, it's like an obstacle course," Harry insisted. "And flying circles around trees is only entertaining for so long."

"Until you get pushed into one," Draco grumbled.

"You should have been paying attention," Harry said.

"I was. You dragged my broom over there," Draco argued.

"Enough," Sirius said as Harry opened his mouth to retort. "Off the brooms." The boys dropped to the ground and dismounted. "Now, go read a book or something."

Both boys looked ready to protest, but stern glares from their fathers stopped them. "Impress us. Find a new jinx," Sirius said.

Harry and Draco grinned. "Bet I find one first," Harry challenged.

"You're on," Draco said, and they ran up the stairs to the library.

"Do you think it's possible for them to be any more competitive with each other," Lucius asked.

"If they're always trying to best each other, then they are constantly improving themselves. I'm not complaining. Just the vocal assumption that your son probably already knows something is enough to make Harry study for a straight three hours," Sirius said. Lucius chuckled.

The two men sat talking for some time in the parlor. The evening was drawing near when Sirius's wife and mother emerged from the green flames of the fireplace. Walburga smiled at her son and nephew before walking up the stairs to her bedroom. Sirius eyed Adrienne for a moment before turning to continue his conversation with Lucius.

Adrienne huffed and walked briskly from the room. Sirius paid her no mind, but Lucius eyed her with an arched brow. "Trouble in paradise, Sirius," he asked. The harsh glare Sirius sent him was more than enough to make Lucius immediately drop the subject.

Around dinnertime, Lucius collected Draco to leave. Harry protested, asking his father why their relatives couldn't stay for the meal. Lucius just smiled, stating that they had their own dinner to attend but promising to send Narcissa over with Draco the next day. The boys agreed, and the Malfoys departed. Harry looked up at his father. Sirius just laid a hand on his shoulder and nudged him towards the dinning hall.

Harry hated meals. Well, he hated meals when his stepmother was home. When Adrienne was gone, meals were very enjoyable. Harry had time to just sit and talk with his father, something that was hard to come by. His father was second in command of the Death Eaters, Harry knew this. He always had. Sirius's job kept him very busy, but he always made sure to be home when Adrienne wasn't.

Harry took his seat on his father's left side. Adrienne was across from him, and his grandmother beside her. The elves brought out their food, and the family began to eat, ignoring the heavy silence. The second Harry had finished his main course he asked his father's permission to be excused. Sirius granted it, and the young boy slid from his chair and hurried from the room. Silence resumed in the hall.

When he had finished eating, Sirius left the table and returned to his office. He spent most of the night separating files, counting money, and estimating profits. He took a good two hours planning one of the phases of a new mission. He was pondering over the purpose of his control over the werewolves when two of the house elves shuffled slowly into the room. "Master," one asked. Sirius looked up at it, a frown on his face. "Master, even though it is early, Master's mother had told us that should this time come and Master was not in bed, we should tell Master to do so because Master has not slept well in weeks."

Sirius looked up at the clock, his frown deepening. It was hardly midnight. He had work to do. He was just about to send the elves away when the other spoke up, "Mistress said that if Master does not sleep, then we should go wake Mistress."

Sirius did not bother to hold back a groan. He ran a tired hand over his face and through his hair. "Fine," he grumbled, standing from his chair. "Fine. Go." The elves scrambled to leave the office. He wandered up the stairs to his bedroom, resisting the urge to grumble incoherently all the way.

He opened the door and stepped inside, frowning. Adrienne was still wake. His wife was seated at her vanity table, wearing her nightgown and brushing out her sunset locks. Sirius paid her no mind and undressed for bed. He climbed into the bed and pulled the covers around him. "Sirius," Adrienne said. He didn't answer. "Sirius," she tried again. Sirius shut his eyes, hoping against hope that she would just leave him alone. "Sirius!"

"What," he asked dryly.

She let out a quiet snort and set her brush down with a sharp clang. She slipped slowly under the covers beside him. Sirius hunched his shoulders. "You 'ave been so testy," she said with a sugary voice. "What es wrong?"

"Nothing," he said shortly.

"Come," she said, sliding her hands up his back, "I know you are under so much stress." Sirius rolled his eyes. She was only adding to it. "Why don't you tell me?"

"It's nothing to concern yourself over," he said. She made a giggly pouting noise. Sirius held back a growl. Why couldn't she just leave him alone? These sorts of situations only ended one way. She knew that, so why bring on the inevitable?

"Sirius," she purred. Sirius twisted out of her grip and buried his face in his pillow. He heard her draw in a sharp breath and felt her sit up. "Sirius," she said, the sugar dropping completely from her voice. "What es your problem?"

"Obviously you," Sirius said, his voice somewhat muffled by the pillow.

She growled low in her throat. "_Mon Dieu! _You call yourself a man!"

"I call myself exhausted," Sirius said. "I just want to go to bed. I have a lot of work to do tomorrow."

"Zat es what you always say," she snapped. "I understand zat you 'ave much to do for ze Dark Lord, but you 'ave a duty!"

Sirius threw the pillow off his head and snapped, "I have greatly increased the wealth of my family since taking over. I have brought many victories to the Dark Lord. I have a son and heir. I have done my duties."

"Zen why did you marry me," she asked with narrowed eyes.

"I was expecting you to raise my son and manage my house," Sirius said, sitting and meeting her glare. "So far you have barely shown Harry the light of day. You have shown him no motherly love. The boy is a completely different person around you."

"'E es not my son," she said.

"But he is mine," Sirius said coldly. "And you have done nothing for him. You spend all your time spending my money and gossiping with the other women."

"You say zis as zough you would allow me to do ozer zings," she snapped. "Women are weak and useless in your mind, not deserving of respect."

Sirius snorted. "There are plenty of women in this world who are worthy of a level of respect. I respect my mother and my cousins."

"Because zey are your family."

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. "Lily Potter."

"What," Adrienne shrieked.

"A mudblood. A filthy, disgusting mudblood, unworthy of the magical blood that runs in her veins. But no one can deny her intelligence. The Potter woman is one of the top Charms experts in Britain. Her intelligence deserves respect," he said.

"You would show some common mudblood respect over your own wife," Adrienne asked in shock. Sirius only smirked at her. "'Ow dare you," she hissed. "You—you—zere is no word in French or English to describe you!"

"If you don't have the words, then do you mind shutting up," he asked with an arched brow. Adrienne's face twisted in fury, and Sirius was mildly surprised when she did not slap him. "As I have said, I am tired, and I cannot sleep with you whining in my ears at all hours of the night."

Adrienne said nothing. She merely stood, grabbed half the pillows from the bed and the throw blanket, and stormed from the room. She was undoubtedly going to sleep in one of the spare bedrooms. Sirius fell back to the bed with a content smile. It was so gloriously silent now.

The next morning Harry scrambled from his bed. Narcissa was bringing Draco over for the whole day. He needed to set things up. The young boy ran circles around his room, pulling his better toys from a chest. He changed into simple everyday robes that would allow for all the running the boys were sure to be doing.

Harry climbed up his shelves and grabbed hold of his broom. Hopping on, he flew a few circles before landing. He collected the broom hoister his father had bought and strapped it to his back. Broom in place, Harry ran out of his room for breakfast. Days when Draco came over were always much more fun than being the only child in the manor. Plus, he could always blame broken vases on his cousin.

Draco was Harry's best friend, really the only one. Sure, the boys had plenty of other children from the other rich families to play with, but Harry wouldn't have minded not knowing them. Draco felt the same. None of those other kids knew any of the cousins' secrets. They only trusted each other.

His and Draco's fathers were both very pleased that the two boys were so close. Harry knew that Sirius used Draco as Harry's motivation for excelling, but it never bothered him. It was too great seeing the look on Draco's face when he beat him to care.

Harry ran down the stairs to the kitchen two at a time. He landed heavily on the ground and opened his mouth to order for some breakfast when he saw his grandmother. Harry's mouth instantly clamped shut. His grandmother was very strict about behavior, and thundering down the stairs had always been on her No List, right under no flying in the house. It was a good thing she hadn't seen yesterday.

"Harry," Walburga said sternly.

Immediately, Harry stood as straight and as tall as he could. "Ma'am," he responded. His grandmother also had strict rules about his posture and manners. If she ever found flaws, she was sure to correct them and then lecture about how to further avoid any repeats. She was long winded sometimes, but Harry guessed someone had to tell him. Manners weren't the sort of thing that fathers taught their heirs, and it wasn't like Adrienne ever wasted a moment on him.

"That thudding can be heard through the entire manor," she said, placing her teacup down on a saucer. "It is very unbecoming for a young gentleman to stomp. The stairs are to be taken one at a time."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I won't do it again."

The older woman looked at him with an arched brow and a small smile. Harry smiled back. Both knew that come tomorrow, Harry would be jumping down the stairs again. "Get some food," she said. "You must be ready for when young Draco arrives."

Harry grinned and climbed up onto a chair. He demanded eggs and bacon from one of the house elves, who scrambled to do his bidding. His grandmother quizzed him from his readings while his food was cooked. He only missed one question, and she seemed very pleased. When the elf brought Harry his plate, the young boy dived into his food in the most regal manner he could muster. His grandmother smiled down at him and slowly stood. Harry watched her as she slowly walked towards the stair. He swallowed his eggs. "Are you alright, Grandmother?"

Walburga turned her dark eyes back to him. "Why do you ask, dear?"

Harry shrugged and broken his bacon slice in half. "You just seemed really slow. You kind of had that look on your face that Father does when the Dark Lord is angry. You know, when he won't let anyone near him."

Walburga frowned. For a moment, Harry thought she would be angry with him, but she just shook her head and smiled. "Don't worry about anything, Harry," she said. "I'm just a bit tired."

Harry nodded. "I'll tell Draco that we have to stay outside today, then." She nodded and walked up the stairs. Harry shoved the rest of his food in his mouth and gulped down the orange juice the house elf held up for him. Then he ran as quietly up the stairs as he could and into the parlor. He stared at the fire for a few seconds, willing it to roar with green flames. As he had still not mastered the art mind control, the fire remained its natural orange. Harry wandered around the parlor. He stopped before the Black Family Tree. Harry's father had spent many long hours with Harry before the Tree, reading off names and telling stories. It was always interesting to hear the many things his relatives had done.

Harry scoffed at the burn marks in the fine material. Those represented the shameful people who had been blasted out of the family. He eyed the mark between the names of his father's cousins. He knew the name that had been there was Andromeda and that she had married a mudblood but nothing else. Speaking of Andromeda was forbidden. Harry knew that in years to come people would use her as an open example of how not to act, but as of now, her disownment was still too fresh to speak of.

He looked at his own name, directly beneath that of his father's, and Adrienne's off to the side. Harry's own mother's name had been taken off the tapestry when his father had married the Frenchwoman. Harry's grandmother had said that the Tree only recognized one spouse. Other than that she had died when Harry was still an infant, Harry knew nothing of his mother. Because Sirius didn't like to speak of her, no one spoke of her. Of course, Harry had no basis of comparison, but he liked to think she was quite a bit nicer than Adrienne.

There was a roar of flames behind Harry. The young boy spun around in time to see Narcissa and Draco walk out of the fire. The boys beamed at each other, and Harry greeted his father's cousin, "Hello, Aunt Narcissa." Although she was technically his cousin, Harry had always called her, Bellatrix and their husbands Aunt and Uncle. Neither Draco, Harry, nor any of the other younger children had been able to wrap their young minds around the complexity of cousins once removed when they had been learning their relatives' names.

"Hello, Harry," Narcissa answered. "Where is your grandmother? There was something I wanted to discuss with her."

"She's upstairs resting," Harry answered. "I don't think she feels well." Narcissa frowned but nodded. "So we need to stay outside today, Draco."

"Wasn't she sick last week too," Draco asked. Harry nodded. He was about to open his mouth when his stepmother walked into the parlor. Adrienne greeted her relatives with a tense mode, and Harry face turned stony at the sight of her. As discreetly as he could, Draco tugged on his mother's skirt and motioned his head towards the Black heir. Narcissa broke from her conversation momentarily to usher the boys outside.

Draco grabbed his cousin's arm and dragged him from the parlor. The boys quickly made their way outside and jumped on their brooms. "What's wrong with your mother," Draco asked.

Harry glared fiercely at Draco. "She is _not_ my mother," he hissed.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said and corrected his question, "what's wrong with that woman your father married?"

Harry smirked a little at Draco's attempt to lighten his mood. "I don't know. I think she and Father fought last night."

Draco did a barrel roll. "Is there ever a time they aren't fighting?" Harry copied the blond's move and shrugged. Draco frowned. Talk of Adrienne always put Harry into a bad mood. But Draco could certainly see why. The Frenchwoman was a hag. She wasn't exactly keen on spending time with her stepson, and Harry was being taught all his lessons by his grandmother and Draco's own mother. Because of Adrienne's lack of presence in Harry's life, Sirius was at home—far more often than Draco's father—to ease the burden on his mother and cousin that they shouldn't have had to take up. Draco had often wondered if that was a good thing or not. On one hand, Harry was able to spend lots of time with Sirius, but on the other, Sirius wasn't spending that time doing things for the Dark Lord.

Children of Draco and Harry's age didn't know too much about the Dark Lord other than that he was very powerful, very dark, and very respectable. They were taught to fear him and practically worship him. He was not one to be crossed, and disobeying his orders meant death. Draco couldn't be sure, but he imagined that the Dark Lord probably didn't like that his second in command was always putting off work to be around his son.

"Think if we whined enough we could get someone to take us to the Quidditch shop in Diagon Alley," Draco asked, not wanting to waste any more time brooding. Harry, who was in the middle of doing loops, turned and looked at him.

"Father's working, and I am not asking Adrienne," Harry said.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I didn't say anything about Adrienne," he scoffed. "There're plenty of other people in the house. Mother could take us." Harry grinned. Narcissa almost always caved to Draco's wishes.

"Okay," Harry said, flying over to Draco's level. "Three laps around the courtyard. Loser cleans any mess and takes any blame for the day."

"You're on," Draco said with a smirk.


	15. Muggle Girl

**Chapter 15**

"Greece," Harry asked incredulously from his father's study. Sirius had called his son in a few moments ago to inform Harry that he would be traveling abroad. "Why?"

"I'm certain you know why," Sirius said. Harry frowned. His father was always doing things for the Dark Lord. As time moved on, Sirius was becoming steadily more busy. While he was home more than any other Inner Circle member, Harry was of the firm opinion that it wasn't enough. Harry was hardly getting a chance to be raised by his parents. He wished the Dark Lord would just back off, but even one so young as he knew that would never happen. The war had been going on for years. Neither side would ever be able to just back off.

"How long will you be gone, Father," Harry asked, trying to keep disappointment out of his voice.

"Two weeks in the least," Sirius said heavily. Harry frowned again_. In the least._ That meant it could be well over two weeks before Harry saw his father again. That is if he saw him again. Harry knew that his father went on many dangerous missions for the Dark Lord. Sirius ran the risk of capture or death at least once a week.

Harry wasn't supposed to ask his father about his business for the Dark Lord. It was all very secretive, but Harry couldn't sit around wondering for so long if his father would die. "Is it dangerous," Harry asked very quietly.

Sirius looked up from a document at the young boy with an arched brow. His grey eyes were wide with anticipation. His wild hair made him seem all the more concerned. Sirius was a bit surprised Harry had even asked. He always stressed to the boy that details of his service to the Dark Lord were not for children. Of course, Harry read the papers. His grandmother always made him read the main articles, just as she had done to Sirius. Harry knew that the Death Eaters killed. He knew that his father killed. But it just wasn't spoken of in the house.

"No, Harry," Sirius said to ease the boy's mind. Of course, he was lying a bit. Sirius was being sent for infiltration and then assassination. But it wasn't as dangerous as a raid. Sirius held back a smile as Harry visibly relaxed. "Also, your stepmother will be visiting her family in France. And as your grandmother is visiting her sister, only Victoria will be here."

Harry's face stretched into a sly smile. Victoria was his nanny. She had been hired once Harry and Draco got too big for the house elves to control. When Sirius was home, she was given leave, but since Adrienne didn't care about Harry, and Walburga didn't have the strength to keep up with him, someone was needed when Sirius was away.

Harry, especially when Draco was around, was ruthless with the poor young woman. Harry had an affinity for pranks and mischief. Sirius couldn't figure out where it came from, and although he never condoned Harry's wild streak, he was always secretly amused by the boy's antics.

"Harry," Sirius said sternly, leaving no room for objections, "you are not to terrorize the girl. I don't pay her enough for the things you do." Harry looked like he desperately wanted to object, but he kept his silence. "There will be no pranks pulled on her, and all the usual house rules stand."

"Yes, sir," Harry said to his shoes.

"You are seven years old now," Sirius continued. "It's time to start a bit of growing up."

"Yes, sir," Harry repeated. He hated it when his father scolded and lectured him. He always felt so much worse when Sirius did it. He would laugh openly at Adrienne and inwardly roll his eyes at his grandmother or Aunt Narcissa. But he always felt truly ashamed when his father had to interject.

For his part, Sirius didn't like scolding his son. Harry was only seven years old, his birthday had been just a week ago. He was very young, but he was also a Black. Blacks had no time for some of the more petty games Harry liked to play. And, of course, the fact that they amused Sirius never made the scolding any easier. But it was a necessity. He had to be firm so that his son would understand. Harry would have to grow to be the epitome of all that is Black. His life depended on it.

Sirius held back a sigh. Indeed, by their next birthdays, both Harry and Draco would have to abandon their childhood and start to learn just what it meant to be the heirs of such great families.

The look on Harry's face was just short of misery, despite how light the scolding had been. Figuring the talk had been negative enough, Sirius said, "Now, the rest of the family will be joining us for dinner tonight. Go upstairs and bathe. Put on your good robes, and try to flatten your hair," Sirius said, shooting the aforementioned hair an exasperated look.

Harry grinned. Try as they may, no amount of spells or potions or yelling could get the boy's hair to lay flat. Sirius grimaced. He got that from his Potter blood. Sirius immediately pushed the thought from this mind. Harry was his son. James Potter had nothing to do with him.

"Something wrong, Father?"

"No," Sirius answered immediately. "Everything's fine." He then smiled slightly at the boy. "Get going." Harry grinned again and ran from the office. Sirius leaned back in the chair, his smile still lingering.

* * *

Harry leaned heavily on his hand, an immensely bored expression on his face. With extreme effort, he held in a sigh. His stepmother was lecturing him on the importance of good behavior while under the care of his nanny. Sirius had left for Greece the previous morning, and Adrienne was carrying on as though her husband hadn't already said these exact things to his son. Harry didn't mind so much the lecture itself, more the woman who was giving it. These were the only sorts of times she spoke to Harry because it gave her an excuse to talk down to him. Harry nodded in all the appropriate spots and kept his eyes fixed on her forehead so as to not be accused of ignoring her.

After what seemed an eternity, she finally stopped talking. Harry held back a grimace as he kissed her cheek in farewell. Seconds later, Adrienne had left through the Floo Network. Harry turned towards the doorway where Victoria stood waiting. She offered him a slightly uneasy smile, knowing exactly the type of week she was due for.

Oddly, Harry found he wasn't in the mood to immediately pounce on the woman with some sort of problem. He calmly walked from the parlor and up to the family library where he was to begin his daily lessons. Victoria followed, understandably shocked at her charge's somber mood. She watched over his shoulder as he read his book and took notes. He recited passages from the family creed for her, and then they went into the kitchens for lunch.

The days progressed slowly, with Harry providing Victoria with the least amount of disastrous events as he could bring himself to conduct. On his fourth morning under her charge, he could barely take the boredom any longer. Normally, he would have had Draco to play with, but his cousin was spending the week with his parents at a Malfoy family function. So having no playmate and knowing that one can only fly so many circles around the courtyard before it grew dull, Harry began to pester Victoria into taking him out into London.

"I'm bored," Harry said forcefully. "There is nothing to do."

"There is plenty to do," Victoria answered lightly over the top of her book. "Your home is full of rooms to occupy your time."

"Not if you live here and have already been through them all," Harry countered. Victoria only arched a brow. "I want to go out somewhere."

"Your father has asked that you remain in the house," she said.

"Asking isn't an order," Harry said. "I want to go to Diagon Alley."

"Out of the question," Victoria said, finally lowering her book. "For you that is dangerous."

"You say that like I've never been there before," Harry scoffed. "The Aurors aren't going to kidnap me to get to my father. It's against their codes of conduct. And that aside, they aren't that stupid. Father would tear them apart."

"Each side is capable of corruption, and I will not be taking you outside of the grounds of this manor," Victoria said firmly.

Harry frowned deeply at her. He took a step closer. "Take me to Diagon Alley or I will see you fired and shamed so that it will follow you forever." Victoria looked only slightly skeptical. "Who do you think my father holds in higher esteem, his only son and heir or some wet behind the ears little girl he hired as an occasional babysitter?" She flushed slightly.

"Take me or I'm running out," Harry threatened. "Which one do you think will look better to my father?"

With a set face, Victoria marked her place in the book and stood. Just as Harry was about to dart, she said, "Allow me to change into suitable robes." Harry grinned as she swept from the room. He knew she would cave. Victoria was always easy to push around.

Not half an hour later, Harry was walking through the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, Victoria by his side and a house elf older than Kreacher trailing behind them. There were a lot of people bustling in and out of shops. It was the middle of August, so Harry assumed that most people were buying school supplies. Harry spotted one couple, staring openly in awe of their surroundings, being led around by a young girl, obviously their daughter and looking comfortable with the situation. Harry sneered as they passed him. Muggles. Victoria had obviously noticed them too as she pulled on Harry's hand to put more distance between the boy and the three impure specimens.

The Black heir tugged Victoria in the direction of the Quidditch shop, which was easily his favorite place in the Alley. With the money they had brought, Harry purchased a new Snitch. The old one had been destroyed a few weeks previous during a particularly un-Black-and-Malfoy-ish adventure with Draco. It was certainly safe to say that the boys were never allowed within a twenty yard radius of Bellatrix with a frog, itching powder, and strike-anywhere matches ever again.

Harry also bought a large stash of Bertie Bots, Chocolate Frogs, and Sugar Quills at the candy store and a new chess set. Victoria had him suffer through clothes shopping as punishment for coming. After nearly two hours, she finally decided on a new set of dress robes and white silk gloves. Victoria, although pureblooded, was not from a rich family at all. But as she was pure blooded and Slytherin, she was still suitable enough to serve the rich, old families. Her pay for services to the Black family was considerable for her limited time. It provided her with the means to have nice things that she would have never gained otherwise.

The house elf was sent back to the manor with all the packages, minus the Frogs, which Harry had slipped into his pocket. After it disappeared with a pop, Victoria offered to buy Harry ice cream for his limited complaining while she shopped. They settled into a table outside the shop, both enjoying the moments rest and sweet flavors. As Harry contently licked his cone, his grey eyes wandered across the street. He soon noticed a heavyset man in Auror robes standing a few feet from their table. Harry tensed. Aurors were not to be trusted. His eyes swept in every direction, looking for more. He found another across the street. Both were just standing. Harry wondered what they were doing. From the corner of his eye, he observed the one close by. The man was slowly looking in all directions, his body and face completely alert. They were lookouts, Harry decided. But for what? He hoped it wouldn't be some sort of raid. He'd be in for a world of hurt if his father found out.

Harry continued to look around for anything suspicious. There was nothing. The Aurors were simply there as guards. Perhaps they expected a Death Eater attack while Diagon Alley was so busy. It seemed a thing that the Dark Lord would call for. But if there was that risk, Sirius would have left very specific instructions for Harry to not leave the house. Harry relaxed slightly at the thought but continued his own look out.

A few minutes later, a couple walked out of the ice cream shop. The woman placed a young girl, who could not have been older than three, into one of the wire chairs. She and her husband seated themselves on either side of the child. The woman alternated from eating her own bowl of ice cream to helping her daughter. Harry watched. She was a pretty lady with fiery red hair. She had a familiar look to her. Harry just couldn't seem to place it. The girl had hair a few shades darker than her mother's , which was tied back with a large blue bow to match her dress. As his back was facing him, all Harry could tell of the man was that he had messy black hair.

Harry watched them from behind his ice cream cone. The girl was getting her treat all over her face and hands. Harry frowned. It was a bit disgusting. The man turned his head just enough for Harry to see that he had glasses and nodded. The Auror across the street nodded back. Harry's frown deepened. They were what the Aurors were guarding.

The woman looked up and locked eyes with Harry. It was then that Harry recognized her. Lily Potter. He glared at her. For her part, the Potter woman was staring at him with wide, emerald eyes. Harry head her husband asked her what was wrong. He looked about to turn in his seat, but the woman's hand shot out and grabbed his shirt to halt his movements. She hissed something at him, and he tensed visibly.

Victoria finally noticed the boy's gaze. She turned her head and sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the Potters. "Finish quickly, Harry," she said. Harry shoved the cone into his mouth, grimacing slightly at the momentary brain freeze. Victoria abandoned her own bowl and they stood. They walked briskly from their table, but as they passed the Potters, the little girl threw her spoon. The utensil hit Harry in the arm. He stopped and glared at the family, Victoria doing the same over his head.

Lily and James Potter stared back at them as if unsure what to do. "Kindly control your child," Victoria said.

Her words snapped the Potters from their state of shock. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Black," Lily Potter said in a voice forced with kindness and politeness.

Harry snorted. "Hardly," he scoffed. "She is not my mother." Harry didn't know why he said that. He had no reason to explain anything to these people.

Lily was staring at him with wide eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line. James was looking on with a stony and dispassionate face, his emotions betrayed by the storm brewing in his hazel eyes. "Sorry," the woman muttered. She stared at Harry with an odd look of longing. Harry looked back with a curled upper lip. How dare that mudblood look at him like that?

"How is your father, Harry," James suddenly asked. Lily hissed her husband's name, and Victoria's grasp on Harry's hand tightened.

"My father is no concern of yours, blood traitor," Harry said darkly. He narrowed his eyes and glared. "You've done enough to him." Harry knew that it was James Potter who had robbed his father of his memories years ago, memories that were lost to his father still. It was probably James Potter who had captured him in the first place.

James remained silent. Harry sneered at him and looked up at Victoria. "Let's go, Harry," she said briskly. The purebloods turned their backs on the small family and walked away without another word. Harry was sure he heard the woman begin to sob. He rolled his eyes. She obviously had no hold over her feelings, and Harry didn't see what had happed to make her so emotional.

"Let's head home," Victoria said.

"No," Harry said. "I'm not leaving just because some blood traitor and his mudblood wife took up two minutes of my day."

"Harry," Victoria said sternly. "There are Aurors here. And the Potters are high members of the Order. You are the son of one of their most wanted men. We need to leave."

"No," Harry repeated firmly. He wrenched his hand from her grasp and ran into the crowd, ignoring her as she called desperately after him. Harry grinned as he ran for the Leaky Cauldron. He slipped between the figures towering above him and out the door. Harry stared. Muggle London.

It was plain.

Harry didn't know how else to describe it. Completely unaware of the hundreds of wizards just on the other side of those buildings and the faction of those wizards who were waiting to kill them, the Muggles were walking around leisurely, observing the windows of their shops. Harry noted that nothing moved. All their photos and painting were still as statues. Their candies were simple pieces of sugar. No one was wearing flowing cloaks or gowns. They couldn't fly, they couldn't travel hundreds of miles in seconds, they couldn't do anything. How did these people live?

Harry walked down the streets staring into the windows. Even the most simple and household of magic was more interesting. A man stopped to stare at Harry. "Are you lost," he asked, arching a brow at Harry's day robes. Harry scoffed at the Muggle. He held up his head and walked past the man. He strolled down the streets. This world was different. Harry certainly didn't like it, but it was different.

It was probably an hour later that Harry happened on a park. For such a nice summer's day, there were hardly any people. Harry saw a few children climbing over the playground equipment, their mothers watching from nearby benches. A man was running down a path, some strange cords hanging from his ears. Two teenagers were sitting under a tree, the boy with his head in the girl's lap.

Harry walked down the dirt path. A butterfly flew in Harry's face for a couple of seconds. He swatted it away. The tiny bug flew off the path and landed on a tree. Harry's eyes followed it. Under the tree, sitting on the roots was a little girl. She looked to be about Harry's age and was reading a book that was half her size. Harry looked down on her. She was a rather plain looking girl with abnormally large hair that was held back by a plastic band. She was wearing shorts, which Harry found to be infinitely odd. Women in his society wore long skirts to cover their legs and certainly never wore pants. This girl was doing both at the same time. She wore a plain short-sleeved shirt, and her exposed skin was dark from hours in the sun. Her appearance was the epitome of everything high-class pureblooded girls were taught to avoid.

The girl looked up from her book and blinked at Harry with large chocolate colored eyes. Harry stared back. For minutes, neither spoke. Then the girl smiled. "Hello," she said pleasantly. Harry nodded. "How are you," she asked politely. Harry narrowed his eyes slightly, not really wanting to speak to the Muggle. She tilted her head to the side, and with her wide eyes, Harry decided she looked a bit like an owl. "Can you not talk?"

"Of course I can talk," Harry snapped. "I'm not stupid."

The girl blinked but did not let his tone faze her. "I didn't say you were," she said. "Just because a person can't speak doesn't mean he's stupid. There could be a number of reasons for his condition, such as destroyed vocal cords or the side affect of a particularly traumatic experience."

"I don't care," Harry said before she could continue.

The girl seemed a bit taken a back by his negative attitude. But then she smiled again. "My name is Hermione," she said sticking out a hand. "Hermione Granger."

Harry eyed the hand as if it were diseased. Did she expect him to touch it? He certainly would not. "Well," Hermione asked.

"Well what," Harry asked in kind.

"What is your name," Hermione asked with a bit of a giggle.

"Harry Black," Harry found himself answering in spite of himself. Why was he even speaking to this Muggle? She was a creature of filth. He was so far above her in the social pyramid it was laughable.

"How old are you," she asked, marking her place in her book and setting it aside. "You can sit, you know."

"I know," Harry said as he remained standing. "I'm seven."

"Me too," Hermione said excitedly. "But you're pretty grumpy for a seven-year-old. You sound like an old man."

"You're pretty bossy sounding for a little girl," Harry countered. Indeed she had all the airs of a know-it-all, an assumption quite enforced by the size of the book she had been reading.

"Do you live in London," she asked. Harry nodded. "I've never seen you before. Which school do you go to?"

"I don't," Harry said leaning against the tree. "I am tutored by my grandmother and aunt."

With wide eyes and a whispered voice, Hermione asked, "What about your parents?"

Harry arched a brow at her. "My stepmother has no time for a boy who is not her son," he said bitterly. "And my father's job often keeps him from home." Hermione visibly relaxed. "What's with the twenty questions, Muggle," Harry asked.

"Muggle," Hermione asked in confusion. "What's a Muggle?"

Harry smirked. "You are a Muggle."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "But what is it exactly?"

"Something that I am not," Harry answered lightly, amused by the red flush staining the girl's cheeks. "A Muggle is not worthy to be in the presence of people of my stature. You should consider yourself lucky I haven't ordered you away from me yet."

Hermione frowned. "You can't order me around. No one died and made you king of England. I can sit anywhere I want."

"Not if someone physically removes you," Harry scoffed. "Which would be easy for me."

Hermione huffed. "Please," she said. "You can't be any stronger than me."

"I don't need to be," Harry said. "I could easily kill you and make everyone who knew you forget you ever existed."

"That would take years of brainwashing and effort," Hermione said with her nose in the air. "And you can't make parents forget about their child."

"You can with magic," Harry said slyly.

"Magic doesn't exist," Hermione said logically. "It's just in stories and imagination."

"It's not," Harry said seriously. "I'm a wizard."

Hermione laughed. "Sure you are," she said. "And that's why you're wearing those robes, right?" She pointed at Harry's day robes, which were a far cry from Muggle clothing.

"Yes," Harry answered with no trace of mockery in his voice. "I don't have a wand because I'm not yet eleven. But I've done plenty of wandless magic to prove my magical blood."

"Wandless magic," Hermione asked with a laugh.

Harry nodded. "One of our servants dropped me once at the top of the stairs, and I bounced the whole way down. That's a very common thing for magical children to do. I've also turned vegetables into candy, and once I turned the master's snake pink." Harry almost shuddered at the memory. He had been five years old, and the Dark Lord had been at Black Manor and demanded to meet him. Harry knew that was an honor, but he had been terrified of the man and the large snake slithering around his feet. Harry and his father had both thought the Dark Lord would have a fit, but he merely removed the spell and dismissed Harry from the room, pleased with the fear the young boy had of him.

"The master," Hermione asked curiously.

"The master is of no concern to you, Muggle," Harry said. Really, none of this was any concern to the girl. But magic was something Harry had over her, and Harry had been taught to exploit his opponents' weaknesses and his own strengths.

"I have a name, you know," Hermione said crossing her arms. "I told you it. Hermione."

"I heard you the first time, Muggle," Harry said with a smirk.

Hermione frowned but did not push it. Instead, she said, "I still don't believe you're a wizard. They don't exist. And even if they did, I'd have to see it to believe it."

"Fine," Harry said. He dropped down to his knees in front of her and reached into his pocket. He pulled out the bag containing the candy he hadn't given to the house elf. He extracted a box and held it up in her face. "These, Muggle, are called Chocolate Frogs. They're a magical candy, chocolate, as I'm sure even a Muggle like yourself could figure out."

Hermione snorted at his insult to her intelligence. "How is chocolate magical?"

"Watch," Harry said and pulled the box open. The Frog sprang to life. It turned a few circles on the box and hopped at Hermione. She let out a shriek of surprise. The Frog landed on her lap, and she screamed again and tried to swat it away. It jumped out of her reach and into the grass. Harry's hand shot out and grabbed the candy. He held it in his hand, where it gave a few more feeble hops before sitting back and looking around. "They only have one good jump in them before they just do this."

Hermione gaped at the Frog with wide eyes. "It moved," she whispered.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course, it did," he said simply. He broke the Frog in half and ate one of the pieces in a single bite. He held out the other to Hermione. "Taste it. It's real chocolate." Hermione tentatively took the treat and nibbled a bit. Her face lit up at the taste and shoved the rest into her mouth as Harry had. Harry then took the card from the box. He sneered. Dumbledore again. He handed it to the girl. "Each Chocolate Frog comes with a Wizard Card. You can collect them. I have no need for a Dumbledore card."

Hermione read the description. "Did he really do all those things," she asked. Harry nodded. Hermione stared at the back of the card in awe. Harry personally didn't like Dumbledore. He was a Gryffindor blood traitor and leader of the revolt against the Dark Lord. Hermione flipped the card over to look at the picture again. She gasped, "He's gone!"

Harry raised a brow oddly at her before remembering the dullness of Muggle photos. "Of course," Harry said simply, not feeling the need to explain. Surely she'd understand that it was magic. "Keep it," he said as she tried to hand it back to him. Hermione looked elated and slipped the card into her book.

"Wow," she breathed. "Magic is real."

"I told you, Muggle," Harry said, leaning back on his hands.

"How come Muggles don't know about wizards," Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "If they did, then they'd want magical solutions to all their problems. We can't be bothered by that. Besides, look at what Muggles have done in the past to witches." He laughed. "Of course, most of the people they burned and hung were stupid Muggles. If they had caught a real witch, she could just perform a simple spell."

The two children spent the next two hours sitting in the grass comparing worlds. Harry told Hermione of more magical things, and Hermione told him about their Muggle counterparts. Harry still didn't understand how Muggles functioned without magic. It was hard to decide if they were perhaps enduring or just stupid.

The sky was turning orange with the setting sun when Harry heard a desperate voice calling out, "Harry!" He immediately recognized Victoria's voice. "Harry! If you're here, please come out! This isn't funny!"

Hermione blinked at Harry. "My nanny," he muttered. "I sort of ran away from her earlier. I need to go. Any longer and I won't be able to convince her not to tell my father I ran off."

Hermione looked to be holding back a bit of a laugh. "That's pretty serious," she said. Harry just shrugged.

"Well," Harry said standing and brushing grass from his pants, "as interesting as this conversation was, good-bye." He began to walk off.

"Wait," Hermione cried. Harry looked back. She pointed across the street to a large house. "That's where I live. My room has the pink curtains." Harry followed her gaze and could make out the curtains in the window.

"So," he said.

Hermione shrugged. "Just in case you want to play one day or something, you'll know where I live. I'll see you later," she said smiling.

Harry scoffed over his shoulder. "Muggle," he said before walking off to meet his haggard nanny, "rest assured, this is the last you will ever see of me."


	16. Old And New Friends

**Chapter 16**

Sirius awoke with a start. He sat up in his temporary bed in Greece. The sheets pooled around his waist, and his body glistened with sweat. Sirius ran his hands over his face and through his hair. He had just had the strangest dream. He didn't know what had been happening, but it ended with a blinding light and booming explosion. The dream didn't have to continue for Sirius to know that whatever had been hit was devastated.

Sirius shook his head as if to rid the dream from his thoughts. It was an inconsequential thing. Dreams didn't mean anything.

Sirius glanced out the window of the bedroom. The sky was painted pink. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood. It would be pointless to go back to sleep now. He still had much to do here. Sirius dressed in a fairly simple set of black robes and prepped himself for the day. He ate a quick spot of breakfast and walked from his stay rooms. He didn't really have much to do today. Sirius soon found himself seated at a small outdoor café, a cup of tea placed before him on the table. He watched as owners opened shops, and early birds walked in and out.

Time passed, and the street became busier. Wizards and witches bustled about the place, rushing to do their business. Sirius's sharp gaze followed them all. His eyes were hardly still for more than a second.

He looked disjointedly over his shoulder as he felt the presence of a person exiting the café. It was a short man. He was young, around Sirius's own age, but the top of his head was beginning to bald. He walked past Sirius's table. Sirius smirked and stood. He hadn't expected this, but he was sure he could use the man's presence to some advantage.

Discretely, Sirius followed the man through the mid-morning crowd. He turned down an alley between two buildings. Sirius sneaked a glance in. The man's beady little eyes were darting to all sides. Sirius assumed he was about to Disapparate. Why he needed to check for a clear coast in a wizarding alley, however, was beyond Sirius.

Before the man could make his move, Sirius stepped into plain view. "Hello, Peter," he said pleasantly.

Peter Pettigrew jumped nearly two feet in the air. He spun around to face Sirius, one hand over his heart and breathing rapidly. His eyes widened considerably at the sight of the Death Eater. "S-sirius!"

Sirius took a few leisurely steps towards the stuttering man. "How are you," he asked. Pettigrew opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words escaped him. Sirius arched a brow. "Interesting," he observed. His face darkened. "And how is your dear blood traitor friend?"

"S-sirius," Pettigrew finally said, "James, he—he's not a blood traitor. You know, deep down. Th-th—You-Know-Who—he—"

Sirius held up a hand for silence, and the other immediately complied. "How many years has it been since I escaped your Order? Yet I still hear ludicrous tales that I was a part of it."

"You were," Pettigrew insisted with the bravest voice Sirius had ever heard the little rodent use. "You just don't remember!"

"I remember plenty," Sirius said. "But we digress. This isn't what I came to speak with you about. I wanted to talk about you."

"M-me?"

"Have you ever seen the Dark Lord before, Pettigrew," Sirius asked, leaning casually against a wall. Pettigrew shook his head, eyes wide as saucers. "He is perhaps not as tall as rumors make him out to be, merely six feet and two inches, abouts. His skin is white as bones, stretched tightly over his skeletal frame. His eyes are the color of freshly spilled blood. His face greatly resembles the snake that constantly trails at his feet." Pettigrew had begun sweating, and his hands were shaking.

"But," Sirius said pushing off the wall and stepping closer to Pettigrew, his voice dropping ominously, "that is not what is frightening about him. You can literally feel the dark and terrible power radiating from his body. It is tangible. It is immense. With power like that, it would take a mere glance for him to crush you like the tiniest of bugs." Pettigrew gulped.

"The Dark Lord has no fear. He has no mercy. He does not hesitate to destroy those who displease him. Dumbledore, on the other hand, is a doddering old fool. He is weak. It will not be long before the Dark Lord reaches out his fist and grinds Dumbledore into the ground. And do you know what will happen to those who supported the losing side of this war?"

Pettigrew's knees gave out, and he dropped to the ground. Sirius smirked over him. "If you have never been hit by the Cruciatus Curse, you cannot imagine the terrible pain. It is indescribable. You pray to whatever God above to strike you down with thunder. You pray for your brain to explode. You pray for fire, knives, anything to end that curse. But it won't come," he said softly. "That is only the treatment given to those followers who displease him. Can you imagine the pain those who denied him will experience?" Pettigrew cringed and curled back from Sirius.

"Are you on the right side, Peter?"

Sirius could almost see the tiny gears turning in the other man's head. He was very frightened. Fear was one of the keys to the Dark Lord's power. All men feared him, to at least some extent, and they feared his followers. They feared his power and the things he could and would do with that power. Few were brave enough to hold out against him, especially after personally meeting him. Pettigrew was not one such individual.

But the sniveling man could have his uses. Sirius knew that he was one of the Potters' closest friends. He and James had been roommates at Hogwarts and considered each other brothers or something. Sirius didn't particularly care about the details. What he cared about was getting at Potter.

Sirius did not walk the streets of Hogsmeade. He did not prance in and out of the Ministry. He did not do his shopping at Diagon Alley. Sirius Black was a known and wanted Death Eater. He was the second-in-command of the Dark Lord's troops. He was number two on Wizarding Britain's Most Wanted List. Sirius could not afford to just walk about in public. And as such, he knew there was no way to surprise the Potters on a family shopping trip without causing a large battle.

Snape had passed on information to Sirius about the Potters. They ventured into the public sphere almost as seldom as he did. They had another child, a girl some four years younger than Harry. Although the Dark Lord had no interest in this child, the fact that her parents were the Potters was enough for the Light side to consider the girl to be in potential danger. There was always a chance that a Death Eater would use her to get to the parents. It was certainly a grounded concern. Sirius would have gladly held the girl hostage to have a chance to kill James Potter. But the Light side knew better, and the girl was always kept hidden away, only venturing out with both her parents and a number of guards for the family's protection. The Potters were easily the best the Light side had, after Dumbledore. They were perhaps the Sirius to Dumbledore's Voldemort. Sirius chuckled. It was a ludicrous analogy.

The only people who really knew where the Potters were hidden were close friends, which decidedly ruled Severus Snape out. With Dumbledore offering them protection, they were as difficult to track down as the Dark Lord. While Snape did provide the Dark side with ample information, they had almost nothing to the inside working of the Potters, which was something Sirius desired far more than Dumbledore's schemes. But were he to have a friend of the Potters under his grasp, well, the war would be over all the sooner.

That was where Pettigrew came into play.

"I—I," Pettigrew stuttered. "My f-friends—"

"Yes, your friends," Sirius said solemnly turning his face to the sky. "They are doomed as well. Perhaps more so than yourself. After all, the Potters are very high up on the Dark Lord's list. And they have no friends among the Death Eaters."

Sirius turned back to Pettigrew. "But, you, Peter, you could speak for them," he said.

"Speak for them," he asked.

"No one in the current rank of Death Eaters would ever speak up for the Potters. Join us, and you will be there to lend them a voice. Serve the Dark Lord loyally, and he will lend you an ear and consider your pleas."

Pettigrew swallowed nervously a few times, his beady eyes looking anywhere but at the dark man before him. He was wringing his hands together and tugging at his shirt collar and hair. He was biting down hard enough on his bottom lip to draw blood.

Sirius knelt to Pettigrew's eye level. He held out a hand. "Join us to save them."

* * *

Harry let out a loud snort that was most unbecoming of a young gentleman. He slammed his hands down on the bed below him. His grey eyes glared fire up at the ceiling. His grandmother had sent him up to bed a few minutes ago because he hadn't been able to concentrate on his studies. He hadn't been able to concentrate on them all week. He hadn't been able to concentrate on flying, he hadn't been able to concentrate on time with his cousin, and he hadn't been able to concentrate on sleeping or eating.

All he could think of was that blasted Muggle girl from the park.

Harry rolled over onto his stomach and rested his chin in his folded arms. He couldn't figure out why he was thinking of her. She had hardly left his mind for a minute since he'd met her a week ago. If she hadn't been a simple Muggle, he would have concluded that she had performed some illegal spell on him. But she was just a Muggle, completely unmagical at all.

It made no sense! There was nothing even remotely interesting about the girl. She was plain looking, and she had a bossy sounding voice.

Harry sat up. There was nothing special about that girl, and he was going to prove it to himself. He jumped off his bed and climbed up his shelf for his broom. He jumped off and flew out the window. Harry raced towards that park as fast as his broom would go. He flew over the trees, carefully avoiding the gaze of the few Muggles who were still out. He hovered over the tree where he had met her. Across the way was her house. Harry looked at the second window on the top floor. The light was shining through the pink curtains. Harry flew his broom over to the window and looked inside.

The girl was sitting at a vanity table brushing out her bushy hair. She was wearing an oversized shirt over a pair of leggings, and fuzzy pink slippers covered her swinging feet. Harry assumed these were her sleeping clothes. She dropped her brush to the top of the table and hopped down from her chair. She spun a few circles as she made her way to the other side of the room. Her chocolate eyes met his grey ones. She promptly screamed.

Harry's eyes widened, and he dove out of view as her bedroom door burst open. He could hear the concerned voices of what he assumed were her parents. She assured them that she had just tripped over something, and it surprised her. They took her word and left. Above him, the window flew open, and the girl leaned out. "Harry," she whispered.

Harry flew back up to her level. "Hello, Muggle," he said with a smirk.

"You—you're flying," Hermione breathed. Harry forced the broom into her bedroom. Hermione gasped as he flew over her head. He slipped off the broom and landed neatly on his feet, broom slung lazily over his shoulder. "Oh God," Hermione whispered. "Was that real?"

Harry arched a brow. "Of course it was real," he said. "You saw it, didn't you?"

She nodded numbly. "It's—it's just I thought I dreamed the whole thing, meeting you and the jumping candy. I keep looking at the card, but I thought maybe I was going mad." Harry smirked. "What are you doing here," Hermione asked.

Harry lazily drifted his eyes around her room, bluntly ignoring her question. He certainly was not going to tell her that she had been plaguing his thoughts for the past week. "Harry," she said.

"What, Muggle," Harry asked staring into the mirror above the vanity table. It wasn't speaking back.

Hermione seemed to forget what she had been meaning to say. "My name isn't Muggle," she said. "It's Hermione."

"You've said that," Harry responded.

Hermione frowned and unlike in the park, she pressed, "So if you know it, you can say it."

"I could," Harry said, turning from the mirror. "But I won't. You are a Muggle. I am the heir to the greatest wizarding family in Britain. I certainly do not have to call a creature like you by its name."

Hermione's cheeks puffed. "I am not a creature! I am a person just like you!"

"You're not," Harry said simply, seating himself in her chair. "You haven't an ounce of magic in you. I come from an old and pure line of magic. The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black has been magical since its beginnings."

Curiosity seemed to overcome Hermione's irritation. "If it started out magical, then it would always be magical, right?"

Harry shook his head. "Magic is not always guaranteed to pass on. It is very unlikely that two magical people will not produce a magical child, but it happens. They are called Squibs. It can also work the other way around. Two Muggles can produce a wizard. The, ah, _proper_ word for it is Muggle-born. But what they really are is filthy mudbloods."

"Mudblood," Hermione repeated as she climbed up onto her bed. She sat Indian style and looked to Harry.

He nodded. "Mudbloods are the worst sort of mixed blood. Then, of course, there are the half-bloods, those whose parents were not purebloods. Unfortunately, as superior as purebloods are, there are some who are called blood-traitors. They are sympathetic with the mudbloods and the filth."

"What's wrong with that," Hermione asked.

"It's disgusting," Harry growled. "Mudbloods are worthless beings. They are completely undeserving of their magical blood."

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "Are mudbloods and mixed bloods less magical than purebloods?"

"What did I just tell you, Muggle?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I mean, would a pureblood always be smarter, always be more powerful, always be able to do magic that others can't?"

Harry blinked. "No," he said. "A mudblood who's smart enough could beat a pureblood. It's happened."

"So why are you saying that mixed people are worse," Hermione asked. "That's racist!"

"It's truth," Harry said. "You don't know anything about my world, Muggle. You can't make assumptions."

"No, I guess not," Hermione said softly. The two children were silent for a few minutes before Hermione asked, "So how old is your family?"

Harry arched a brow. "The Family Tree dates to the Middle Ages. We have existed since before Hogwarts," he said.

"What's Hogwarts?"

"England's wizarding school," Harry said. Hermione's mouth formed a shocked O. "What," Harry asked. "You didn't think we just wake up and know how to perform hundreds of spells and brew potions?"

Hermione shrugged. "I never thought about it," she admitted. Harry shook his head. "Do you go there," Hermione asked.

"Not yet," Harry said. "Formal magical education doesn't begin until eleven to twelve years old. But Father says there is a good chance I won't go to Hogwarts."

"Why not," Hermione asked. "Will your grandmother teach you?"

Harry shook his head. "No," he said. "I may attend Drumstrang. It is located somewhere in Northeastern Europe, and the headmaster is a colleague of my father's. Drumstrang is far more acceptable than Hogwarts. They teach Dark Arts and forbid mudbloods. Headmaster Karkaroff is a far cry above that Muggle-loving fool Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore is the one on the card you gave me, right," Hermione asked. Harry nodded. "Why don't you like him?"

"Because he is a blood traitor, and he heads the resistance against the Dark Lord's rule," Harry said simply.

"I don't understand," Hermione said.

Harry frowned. This was far from the Muggle's business, even more so than the existence of magic. He didn't know why he had told her all those things, and he didn't understand why he opened his mouth and explained the war. "How do Muggles get news?"

"With the newspaper or television," Hermione answered. Harry blinked oddly. "It's sort of a box with moving pictures. You plug it into the electrical socket, and it picks up signals in the air."

"Muggles," Harry muttered. "Have you ever heard reports of strange deaths that your Muggle law enforcers could not explain?" Hermione shrugged. Harry frowned. "They happen. Muggles are casualties in our war."

"You're at war?"

Harry nodded. "The sides of the war are simple. There are the mudbloods and blood traitors following the Ministry, Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix, and the purebloods and Dark creatures with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters."

"Death Eaters," Hermione asked with a grimace. "That doesn't sound pleasant."

"War isn't pleasant," Harry said. Then he smiled proudly. "My father is second-in-command of the Dark Lord's armies."

Hermione's eyes were wide. "Wow," she said. "So he's like a field marshal!"

"A what," Harry asked.

"Field marshal," Hermione repeated. "It's the highest military rank in Her Majesty's army. I think in America they're called five-star generals."

"My father is just called the Dark Lord's general," Harry said. "He is second-in-command. That is all there is to it."

Hermione nodded. "But the war," she prompted.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand even more on end. "Well, the Dark Lord is battling for control of Britain. It won't be long, I should think, before he is able to take the Ministry and Dumbledore down. Then he will assume power."

"He's trying to overthrow your government," Hermione asked. "Why?"

"Because it is run by incompetent Muggle loving fools," Harry said knowledgeably. "The Dark Lord is the heir of Slytherin and thus is quite deserving of a ruling spot in government."

"Slytherin?" Hermione asked. "What's a Slytherin?"

"More of a who," Harry said. "Salazar Slytherin was one of the four Founders of Hogwarts. The Four Houses of the school are named after each Founder, and each House has certain qualities. Rowena Ravenclaw was a priestess of the Old Religions and preferred those who strived for learning and knowledge. Helga Hufflepuff was a young Christian noble girl and desired those who were hard working and loyal. Godric Gryffindor was a knight who chose the brave and chivalrous. Salazar Slytherin was a Druid and favored the cunning and pure."

He continued, "Slytherin and Gryffindor were once great friends, but after a falling out, Slytherin left the school. To this day Slytherins and Gryffindors form the bitterest of enemies, and rightly so. Gryffindors are pompous and overbearing blood traitors and mudbloods."

"But what did you mean his heir," Hermione asked.

"Slytherin was what is called a Parselmouth, meaning he had the ability to talk to snakes." Hermione cringed. "In the depths of Hogwarts, it is said that he built a Chamber of Secrets and housed a monster inside. Only the heir of Slytherin could ever command this creature. Supposedly the Chamber was opened nearly fifty years ago. I only know that some girl died before the creature disappeared again."

Hermione gasped. Harry wasn't particularly fazed. He had heard the story so many times before. "The Founders are perhaps the most greatly revered wizards and witches in Britain's history, perhaps in most of Europe. Not much is left of them today, and to be able to say that the blood in your veins is that of a Founder is spectacular. And the Dark Lord's blood is of the greatest of the Founders."

"Does he have a name," Hermione asked.

"Who?"

"The Dark Lord." Harry nodded. "What is it?"

"It is not spoken," Harry said. Before Hermione could ask why, Harry explained, "The Dark Lord is a very fearsome person. He—he is not to even remotely be trifled with. He has killed loyal followers for displeasure. My father likes to have a bit of his own way in how he runs things, and I know that if it weren't for the fact that he is still very valuable to the Dark Lord, Father would have been killed years ago."

Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth. "His followers call him either the Dark Lord or Master. Those on the other side refer to him as 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.' He is just that feared. If not just for his power, than his appearance. Father says that he did something to make him nearly immortal. He looks like some sort of snake man." Harry shuddered at the mental image of the Dark Lord.

"He sounds scary," Hermione said.

"You don't know the half of it, Muggle," Harry sighed.

* * *

Sirius paced about his room. It had been a few days since his brief encounter with Pettigrew. He had let the other man leave without a definite answer. Pettigrew had a lot to chew on for a while. Sirius would send someone to Pettigrew within a week. He lifted his wand, and with a flick, his bags were packed. He needed to get back to Britain. He had accomplished his mission, and the Dark Lord would desire his report. It had also been too long since he had seen his son.

Sirius Apparated to the Grecian wizarding government building. There he made arrangements for a private Port Key that would take him just outside his home. Within minutes, he was in London and walking up to his front door.

Sirius stepped inside and was greeted by a house elf. He dropped his bag by the creature and headed directly for his office. He seated himself behind his desk and was presented with a cup of tea from another elf. He skimmed through the papers left on his desk. Among them included financial, war, and Harry's educational reports.

Sirius had just finished reading the financial bits before Harry appeared in the doorframe. "Father," he said distantly. Sirius looked up and smiled at the boy. Harry dropped his proper behavior and grinned back. He jogged up to the desk and hugged Sirius. "I'm glad you're back," he said.

Sirius fondly ruffled the child's hair. "As am I," he said. "Did you behave?"

Harry smiled. "Of course," he responded. Sirius gave him a pointed glance. "I really did this time," he insisted. "I didn't pull a single prank on Victoria, other than slipping a frog in her teacup. And I only did it once."

Sirius was too tired from his mission to hide his smile. "You shouldn't," he said and left it at that. "How is your grandmother? Did her trip go well?"

Harry nodded. "I think it relaxed her, but she was very tired from the traveling. She's resting upstairs right now," he said.

"I will see her tomorrow then," Sirius said. "Did you complete your studies?"

"Yes, sir," Harry responded. "And I read ahead to the werewolf chapter of the Dark Creatures text."

"Good boy," Sirius said discarding the notes Victoria left on Harry's studies. He trusted the boy's word. "Now, go on and play for a bit before dinner. I need to go over these reports." Harry nodded and left the study.

Sirius pulled the war reports out. He leaned back in his chair and skimmed the notes. It seemed to have been a slow two weeks. The Ministry had attempted to raid the Warringtons, but nothing had come of it. There had been an attack on a small Muggle village, nothing to gain from it other than show of force. A note from Lucius said that he had encountered James Potter and Remus Lupin during a brief battle in Diagon Alley.

Suddenly it clicked. Sirius scrambled for his fireplace and threw in a handful of Floo Powder.

* * *

Remus Lupin frowned as his wards began to go off. He grabbed his wand from the table and blew out a nearby candle. With the stealth that came from his werewolf curse, he snuck through his house and to a window. Carefully he peaked out. There was a dark shape moving up the path. It didn't look threatening, but Remus knew to never take chances.

The figure suddenly stopped several yards from the door and lifted its arm into the air. Seconds later, an owl was perched on the window frame, its beak tapping the glass and a small scroll of paper tied to its leg. Carefully, Remus opened the window just enough for the owl to fly inside. It perched on the back of a wooden chair, amber eyes blinking at Remus's own. He held out an arm, and the owl fluttered onto it. It held out its leg. Remus took the parchment and unrolled it.

In loopy writing, the message read:

_Brother, I am not an enemy. I come to speak with you. Please allow my entrance._

It was not signed.

Remus returned his gaze back outside. The figure was still standing where it had let the bird fly. The owl, which had moved up to Remus's shoulder, nudged his head softly. Remus nodded. The owl took off through the window. Remus watched as the figure began its trek once again towards his home. Remus knew this was probably a dumb move. There was no one else around, and he had no idea who this person was. But there was no show of hostility, and Remus's manners commanded him to show courtesy in return.

There was a brisk knock on the door. Remus opened it to reveal a woman who appeared to be in her mid thirties to early forties. She had a stone set face and hard eyes. Her sandy hair was littered with grey, and her dark robes were patched at the elbows. She nodded in greeting and said simply, "Remus Lupin."

Remus stepped to the side to allow her entrance. "Yes," he said in his usual warm voice. "I didn't catch your name."

"I had not yet given it," she responded. "I am Greta Oldridge, and I come with a proposition."

Remus arched a brow. "What sort," he asked offering Oldrige a seat.

She took the seat and briskly continued, "I am like you. The wizards of this world do not accept me. I have been denied more work opportunities than I can count because of my curse. Surely you have experienced the same thing."

"I gather you're a werewolf," Remus said.

She nodded. "You understand the predicament of our type," she said. "The wizards in command of this government are blind to the potential of our people. They are fearful of us and deny us our rights as citizens of wizarding Britain. This is something that must be changed."

"I can agree to that," Remus said warily.

"I was sent by our commander to offer you a place in our pack," Oldrige said.

"And who is your commander," Remus asked through his teeth. He had a good feeling he already knew the answer.

"Fenir Greyback is pack leader, and he has authorized this decision," she said. Remus frowned. Greyback wasn't exactly known for his peacefulness. In fact, it was quiet the opposite. Greyback was nothing short of blood thirsty and desired to swell the ranks of werewolves. He was also a Death Eater.

"However," Oldrige continued, "the order to recruit you came from above."

"Voldemort," Remus asked, standing in surprise.

Oldrige hissed. "Do not say his name!" Remus dropped back into his chair, muttering an apology. "It was not the Dark Lord," Oldrige said a few seconds later. "The orders came from General Black."

"Sirius," Remus growled. "Sirius Black sent you here?" She nodded. Remus's eyes flashed with burning fire. "Get out of my house," he commanded. "Get out and don't come back. Tell your general that I will have no part of him."

Oldrige narrowed her eyes at him, and she immediately left. Remus glared at the closed door for some time trying to control the urge to rip something apart. Thankfully, it was the new moon. His house probably wouldn't have survived if she had come with that offer near the full moon. He growled and walked to his fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. James would want to hear about this.

Remus knew that he and James would have very different views on the situation. Both would be angry at the attempt to turn Remus. Both would be happy to know that Remus never had any intentions of ever serving Voldemort. But while Remus would fume at Sirius, James would mope. He always moped when Sirius was brought up. Remus hated that he didn't share James and Lily's opinions on the issue of Sirius anymore.

After Sirius had first been turned, Remus had wanted him back as much as the Potters. He still wanted Sirius back. But Remus had long since given up hope of that. Sirius was too far gone. Voldemort and the Blacks had done too good of a job on Sirius's mind for them to ever hope of having their old friend and brother back. And his kidnapping of Harry was unforgivable. Remus thought everyday about the times before that. Before falling into sleep, he always recalled the good old days at Hogwarts when their biggest concerns had been how to heat up Snape's head to a degree hot enough to cook an egg.

They had known what was coming when they graduated. Dumbledore had approached them a month before graduation about his Order. Sirius and James had joined immediately. Lily and Remus had followed during the summer, and Peter a few months after. They knew that they were walking straight into a war, but it had hit them harder than any had expected, except maybe Sirius. On the rare occasions that Sirius had spoken of his family, they had heard what Dark wizards were really like. Sirius had grown up within the Darkest of the families, and his family members were heavily involved with the Death Eaters. He knew exactly what was out there.

They had been forced to grow up practically over night. Lily and James were married almost immediately, and Sirius became an Auror. Remus finally experienced real and unabridged prejudice against werewolves. Before, his parents had always sheltered him, and at Hogwarts only the teachers, his friends, and Snape—after sixth year—knew. The teachers hadn't mentioned it, his friends hadn't cared and stood by him, and Snape was sworn to secrecy by Dumbledore.

Remus ran a hand over his face and threw the powder into the fire. He needed to talk to James before it got too late.


	17. True Black Blood

**Chapter 17**

The Black family sat in its entirety around the dinning hall table of Black Manor. As always, Sirius sat at its head, his wife and son on either side. The adults conversed amongst themselves, the children lucky enough to not be sitting between parents whispered to each other. Harry and Draco had oddly conspicuous looks on their faces as they giggled.

Sirius took a rather large sip from his wine glass. He stared down into the dark red liquid. He probably should stop drinking. He was on his third glass of the night, and it was still very early. To his side, Adrienne was babbling on about some nonsense. Sirius held back a groan. Over the few years he'd been married to the woman, she had just steadily gotten more and more irritating. Sirius didn't know how neither had tried to curse the other to oblivion yet.

After the final course of the meal had been eaten, the family adjourned into the ballroom. Harry and Draco immediately drew the attentions of most of the children with some scheme. Bellatrix's girl tagged closely behind Draco, causing him to nearly step on her at every turn. Sirius stood among several of the adults of the family, everyone occasionally sipping their wine.

Sirius held back his grimace as Adrienne continued to talk with Narcissa. She was using a sugar coated voice that ground Sirius's nerves. He took a large gulp of wine. It took a decidedly large amount of alcohol in his system for Sirius to be able to stand that noise.

After a few minutes, the adults had made slight position changes. The men had congregated together, the women just off to the side conversing of homely matters and gossip. Sirius could hear every word over the low voice of Lucius. They were talking about babies.

"Yes," Narcissa was saying, "the Warringtons just had a little boy."

"About time," Walburga said. "How many girls do they have?"

"Four, I believe," Narcissa answered. "They've been waiting so long for the boy. They finally have an heir now. As I hear it, Warrington's sister's son would have been named heir had they failed to produce a boy, and supposedly the sister is a complete wench. I don't really know her, but she did always seem unpleasant and rather idiotic."

"I've heard the same," Bellatrix said. "I can't believe she's had five children. Childbearing is a waste of time and greatly interferes with the woman's life. I find it amazing I continued with Capella, as I already had Castor for an heir. Being pregnant with her cut seriously into my work for the Dark Lord."

"At least you 'ave a child," Adrienne said darkly. "Your cousin refuses to allow me to do my duties as 'is wife."

"Refuses," Bellatrix asked.

"'E refuses to create a child," Adrienne whined.

"Never," Walburga gasped.

"Never," Adrienne confirmed. "Every time we bed, 'e performs ze proper birth control spells, and I am to take potions once a month as backup." She was staring to sound a little hysterical. "'E only uses me for pleasure and release," she said darkly.

Sirius held back a growl and finished the remainder of his wine in a single gulp. Immediately he motioned for an elf to refill it. He began to completely tune Lucius and the other men out. He focused his full attentions on the women's conversation and on not swaying. He was starting to feel the affects of the wine.

"That's preposterous," Walburga said to her daughter-in-law. "Have you let him know you are willing?"

"I 'ave practically zrown myself on 'im," she said. "But 'e sounds like you, Bellatrix. 'E says 'e already 'as a son and 'eir, and zat zat es enough. 'E will not give me a child of my own!"

"Well," Narcissa said warily, "maybe it has something to do with the way you treat Harry."

"_Pardon_," Adrienne asked dangerously. Sirius almost spun to demand her silence. Wife or no, she would no speak to his cousin like that, especially when that cousin was right.

"It's just that you are no proper mother figure to Harry," Narcissa continued, sounding a bit ruffled by her kinswoman's tone. "And Sirius cares very deeply for his son. My aunt and I seem to teach and care for Harry more than you do, and Sirius is so often busy doing work for the Dark Lord. It is likely that Sirius does not wish to put another child through not having his or her parents around. While he cannot help that he is gone, you certainly have no other business to keep you from your stepson."

Sirius smirked as he could almost feel the fire burning in his wife's eyes. His cousin had hit the nail right on the head. She was a very perceptive woman. Sirius often forgot just how discerning she really was.

"I zink zat you should not assume such zings," Adrienne said briskly.

Sirius rolled his eyes and took a sip from his glass. "Certainly enjoying your wine tonight, aren't you, Sirius," Regulus asked slyly. Sirius reached up innocently and flicked his brother's ear. "Ow!" Sirius smirked a slightly drunken smirk.

It was soon that most of the older members of the family had returned to either their own homes or to rooms upstairs, and the children had been put to bed. Only Regulus, Lucius, Rodolphus, Sirius, and their wives remained downstairs. It was getting a bit late in the night, and they were all nearing a state of drunkenness. Sirius chuckled as he ordered an elf to fill his wine glass to the brim. He wasn't sure, but he thought Lucius snorted at the sight. Adrienne was leaning on him, her head resting on his shoulder.

They all sat talking and laughing for some time before Bellatrix lifted Capella from the corner she had fallen asleep in, and the family of the eldest Black daughter left. Lucius and Narcissa were soon to follow, bringing Harry and Draco with them. Regulus and Megara retired to their own rooms, leaving Sirius with Adrienne.

"Bed then," Sirius slurred. He finished off his wine with a spectacular gulp and attempted to stand. He hadn't even straightened his knees before he fell crashing back onto the couch. Adrienne giggled. "Okay," he said holding up his hands, "now bed." Again he fell.

Adrienne pushed herself up with little trouble and walked to her husband. She grabbed hold of his arm and heaved up. Sirius made it to his feet but stumbled around a bit. Adrienne was able to get a good footing and prevented the both of them from tumbling to the ground. "Yes, let's get you upstairs," she said slinging one of his arms around her shoulders. Sirius looked at her with his glazed eyes and grinned lazily. She smiled back slyly.

The couple stumbled their way upstairs. Adrienne reached out and wrenched open the door. She dragged Sirius inside and clicked it shut behind her. She grabbed hold of her husband again before he lost his balance. "You are vairy drunk," she said. Sirius merely nodded, his drunken grin never leaving his face.

Adrienne helped him over to the bed. He collapsed back onto the comforter and laughed up at the ceiling. Adrienne reached down and yanked off his boots. Then she leaned over him to remove his belt. She glanced up through thick lashes. He was watching her, his eyes drooping. With a grin, Adrienne inched up his chest and placed her pink lips on his. In no state to protest, Sirius closed his eyes and kissed back. Adrienne ripped off the belt and climbed over her husband. She yanked his shirt off and ran her hands over his chiseled chest and stomach.

Sirius groaned and brought his arms up to wrap around her waist. She pressed her body closer to his, and he pulled her sunset hair, causing it to fall from its previous position in a river down her back. Sirius pushed his tongue into her mouth and brought a hand up to cup one of her breasts. Her small hands began tugging at the hem of his pants, and Sirius grabbed her skirts, trying to pull them off. Adrienne broke the heated kiss and removed her dress. Then she scooted up onto the bed, pulling Sirius with her.

* * *

The next morning, Sirius awoke before he opened his eyes. He could feel the sunlight shining through the bedroom window. Even with closed eyes, the sunlight was giving him a massive headache. He tried to roll over and face the opposite wall, but at the first slight motion, his head erupted in a flash of pain comparable to the Cruciatus Curse. He remained still as death for several long minutes before he finally opened his eyes. He squinted against the glare of the sunlight filtering through the curtains.

Sirius resisted the urge to groan, knowing any noise would be unbearable until he got to some sort of hangover potion. Through the corner of his eye, he could just make out Adrienne's mass of orange hair spilled over the pillows and her bare back.

Sirius's eyes widened considerably, and despite the pain, jerked his head to the side to look at her. The sheets were covering only the lower portion of her body, and she certainly wasn't wearing a nightgown. Sirius frowned. Adrienne always wore nightgowns. Although he could feel the answer, Sirius looked anyways and discovered that he too wasn't wearing any clothes.

Sirius's heart began to hammer, and his breathing became irregular. Slowly, he sat up, wondering if he had remembered to administer the proper birth control spells. He gripped his head and groaned. From the bedside table, he grabbed hold of his wand and muttered a spell. A small vial came flying at him. He caught it and gulped down half. His headache lessened considerably to a small throb. He could handle this. The work he was constantly doing for the Dark Lord always gave him such headaches.

He slipped out of the bed and frowned at the floor. Several articles of clothing were strewn about. Sirius grabbed hold of a pair of boxer shorts and pants. He had just secured the pants around his waist when he heard Adrienne groan. He looked over. She had lifted her head and was staring at the empty spot he had previously been laying in. She turned her head and locked eyes with him. Sirius stared back dispassionately. She arched a brow. "'Allo, 'usband," she said.

Sirius was about to give her his usual nod of acknowledgement, but then he stopped. She stared back at him expectantly as his eyes narrowed. He had been married to Adrienne for over five years, and although he did not like the woman, he had certainly picked up on her habits and mannerisms. Adrienne was a pathetic drunk. It took maybe two glasses of wine for her to become completely intoxicated. And she was never without terrible hangovers. But there she was, blinking up at Sirius as sober as the day she was born.

She hadn't been drunk at all last night.

Sirius snarled at her. Adrienne's eyes widened. "You," Sirius growled. She blinked innocently. "I can't believe you." Far from being in the mood to yell at her, Sirius grabbed a shirt and stormed from the room.

Sirius remained seething at his wife for a week. He remained either locked in his study, emitting only Harry, or within Riddle Manor. Sirius Black did not like to be taken advantage of, especially not by his own wife. It wasn't for two weeks that he finally allowed her to speak with him, and he granted her permission only for Harry's sake. The boy had been complaining of Adrienne's pestering of him for days.

Adrienne knocked on the door and waited until Sirius bided her to enter. Sirius lifted his stormy eyes to meet her. She stood straight, her dark eyes locked with his. Sirius leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "Speak," he said.

Adrienne's lips stretched into a proud smile, one Sirius eyed warily. "I 'ave received a piece of news from ze 'Ealer zat requires your attention," she said vaguely. Sirius arched a brow in a silent command for her to continue. "I am wiz child," she said. She smiled deviously as she observed her husband's reactions.

Sirius blinked up at her, his jaw hanging slightly loose. He dropped his chair back onto all four legs and leaned forward. "What," he asked in a low, monotone voice.

"I am wiz child," she repeated.

Sirius stood sharply from his chair. His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He could feel his entire body shaking as he grinded his teeth together to keep from screaming at the woman before him. His eyes were blazing with blue fire. Adrienne's smug face dropped, and she took a few steps back from her husband. "You're pregnant," he hissed. She nodded, her face white. "You're pregnant," he yelled. She gasped.

Sirius stormed out from behind his desk. He stepped very close to her and leaned down. "You have allowed yourself to become with child against my wishes. We have had this discussion before, Adrienne! Harry is the heir to this family. There is no need for another child," he continued to yell.

"I 'ave every right to a child of my own," Adrienne countered. "I am a woman, and you cannot expect zat I would want anything else!"

"You went against me," Sirius snapped. "You took complete advantage of the fact that I was too stumbling drunk to even think of spells."

"Et was ze only way to conceive wiz a 'usband like you," she snapped back. Sirius growled loudly at her.

From the hallway, Harry stood listening in with wide eyes. He blinked in shock a few times. Adrienne was pregnant. She was going to have a baby. Harry would have a sibling. But it would be a sibling that neither he nor his father wanted. Harry clenched his fists. How dare Adrienne trick his father like that? She was nothing but a deceiving wench! Harry held back a growl.

Quietly, Harry headed back down the hall and up the stairs to his room, the loud voices of his father and stepmother echoing behind him. He shut his door and slammed his fists repeatedly into his pillow. How could she do this to them? It was bad enough that just she was there, but now she was bringing an unwanted baby into the mix.

Harry didn't know what to do. He just knew that he needed to get away from the house. He grabbed his broom and jumped out the window. He flew over the town, and quickly reached his destination. It was mid-afternoon on a Saturday, so he knew she would be there. Indeed, Hermione opened her window seconds after Harry knocked. She stepped aside to let him fly in. "Harry, what are you doing here," she said.

Harry landed and was about to answer, but instead blinked at her. "What are you wearing, Muggle," he asked. Hermione looked down. She had a black leotard over pink hose and satin shoes. Her hair was tied up in a tight bun on top of her head.

"I just got home from ballet," she explained. "But what are you doing? You already came over this week." Since Harry had meet Hermione nearly three years ago, Harry had taken to sneaking out of his house once a week to visit her. He almost always came at night after both children were expected to be sleeping, and they would spend hours talking. Harry had still never called her by her name, and each and every time he left, Harry always told Hermione that she would never see him again. The first few times, she had been scared he meant it. But it had soon become apparent that he was merely saying it to say it.

Hermione took a step closer to Harry when he didn't say anything. The young wizard dropped into what had become his chair and stared dejectedly at the ground. Hermione didn't know what to do. He looked to down. She had never seen Harry like this before. Harry always had an air of superiority about him, and he almost never showed emotions like that. "Harry," she asked carefully.

"Adrienne's going to have a baby," Harry said.

Hermione knew Harry well enough to know this was the worst of news. This was a second close behind his father either being captured or killed. She walked to his side and placed a hand around his shoulders. She patted his arm with her other hand. "I'm sorry," she said. "Did they just tell you about it?"

"I overheard them arguing," Harry said. "She tricked him into it."

"Tricked him," Hermione asked. "How could she have tricked him into getting pregnant?"

Harry sneered. "She waited for him to get drunk while we had family over. Everyone was drinking wine, and they were all in that state. Father was the drunkest when Draco and I went upstairs. I remember Adrienne hadn't drunk at all. She probably planned it all. I'd bet the family fortune she had the house elves filling his glasses at every turn."

"That's horrid," Hermione said forcefully.

Harry just sighed. "I didn't want to be at home, so I came here. I don't even care if they notice I'm gone," he said.

"You can stay as long as you need to," Hermione offered. "Your parents wouldn't begin to know where to look, and I can hide you if my parents come in." Harry placed a hand over hers and nodded. He wouldn't say his thanks aloud, but he knew she would understand.

* * *

Living life with a pregnant Adrienne was miserable for both Sirius and Harry. The woman was a rage of hormones, and neither male had any love for the woman to help see them through the treatment she was prone to dish out. Sirius avoided the manor like the plague and had practically begged Lucius to allow Harry to spend nearly all him time at Malfoy Manor. Harry was in his own home maybe one or twice a week.

Just after Harry had turned ten years old, Sirius was sitting in his study. The Dark Lord had no plans for the next two weeks, and as such, Sirius was left with little to do. He glanced over his files. The werewolf friend of the Potters was still refusing to join his own people. The messengers Sirius and Greyback had sent were producing little effect. Sirius made a note to send Greyback himself if the wolf didn't start to see reason soon. Sirius skimmed over the information that the spies had collected, trying to set it into an order of sorts. Many of their spies came at information from such different angles that it was hard to piece things together.

Sirius dipped his eagle feather quill into the ink and was just about to scrawl a note when the door to his office burst open. Sirius jumped, and the quill scratched across the parchment. He scowled at the ink stain and looked up to see who had disturbed him. Adrienne was standing before him, her eyes alight with blue fire. Her six-month rounded stomach was showing considerably from under the folds of her dress. She looked terribly angry. But as he had never quite stopped being angry with her for getting impregnated, Sirius just frowned back. "What do you want," he asked.

"You lied to me," she screamed shrilly. "All zese years you 'ave been lying to me! I cannot believe I didn't see et before!"

"What are you talking about," Sirius asked, resisting the urge to call her a rather rude name. He stuck his quill in the ink bottle and folded his arms over his desk. It was almost amusing to see her normally pretty face turn red and ugly with rage.

"I am talking about your so-called son," Adrienne shrieked.

Any and all amusement Sirius might have felt with the situation vanished. He sat up straight as a board. "What do you mean," he asked.

"'Arry es not your son! You 'ave been lying to me! You all 'ave been lying to me! Ze boy belongs to ze Potters. You stole 'im," she yelled.

If Harry had been home, Sirius would have killed her on the spot. Instead he asked, "Where did you learn this?" His face was set in stone, and his eyes darkened with unspoken fury.

"I was at ze McNairs," she said as though it were inconsequential. "I was visiting wiz Maria as she too is expecting." Sirius stood from his chair and walked past Adrienne towards the parlor. "Where are you going," Adrienne yelled after him, jogging to keep up. "I 'ave not finished speaking wiz you."

"Yes, you have," Sirius said coldly. "This conversation is through. It will never happen again. You will forget anything that woman ever said to you."

"Why?"

"It is the Dark Lord's will," Sirius said as he entered the parlor. "Harry is to never know the truth. The penalty for disobeying the Dark Lord's word is death." He drew his wand and reached for a handful of powder.

"Put zat away," Adrienne said forcefully. "What do you zink you are doing?"

"I am going to kill McNair's wife. She knew the penalty for ever speaking of that. And if McNair did not tell her, than she will be paying for his stupidity."

"You cannot kill 'er!" Adrienne cried, standing in front of the fireplace.

"I can and I will," Sirius said. "Now move aside. I have no problem pushing you."

"You cannot do zat," Adrienne yelled. "I am your wife!"

"And I am your husband," Sirius countered, his voice colder than ice. "And you will obey my word. You will stand aside, and the woman will die, and you will never speak of Harry as anything other than my son ever again."

"'E es not your son! 'E es not your child!" She pointed to her stomach. "Zis," she cried, "zis es your child. Zis es you 'eir. Not ze boy wiz ze dirty blood!"

Sirius brought up his hand and slapped her across the face. Adrienne almost fell to the floor with the force. "You will never speak of Harry like that again," he snarled. "If I hear it, I will kill you as well." Adrienne stared up at him with wide blue eyes, very much believing that he would do it. "Now move." The Frenchwoman slowly stepped to the side and collapsed onto a chair. Sirius threw the powder into the flames and disappeared.

* * *

Harry flew into his bedroom at nearly midnight. He placed his broom in its designated spot on his shelf. He stretched his arms over his head, smiling at a satisfactory pop. He had just returned from the Muggle girl's house. He had been visiting her once a week for three years now. He still didn't understand what it was about her that made him continue to see her.

He walked across his room towards his bed. Just as he hopped on and was about to take off his boots, his door burst open. Harry jumped in surprise. It was strict rules within the manor to never open a door or enter a room before being granted permission.

Walburga walked quickly towards the bed. "Where have you been," she asked shrilly.

Harry's eyes widened. He was so incredibly busted.

"Oh, never mind," his grandmother said frantically. "It doesn't matter!" She grabbed his wrist and dragged him up. "Come, your stepmother is giving birth!"

Harry's face paled. Adrienne was having the baby? His sibling was being born? Harry knew that it was coming any day now, but it still was a huge shock. He was numbly dragged down to the second story of the house where his father and stepmother's bedroom was located. Sirius was pacing back and forth next to the door. Lucius and Narcissa were standing with a tired looking Draco a few feet off. Walburga disappeared inside the bedroom, the door clicking shut sharply behind her.

Although Harry would have normally gone to stand by his cousin, Harry ignored Draco and headed straight for his father. Harry looked up at his father's face carefully. Sirius looked haggard. Harry had obviously missed out on at least an hour of his stepmother's labor while at the Muggle's. Sirius usually took some time to work himself up to such a worry that it was noticeably to others.

Sirius stared down at his son for a few seconds before looking back to the door. Behind that piece of wood, his wife was giving birth. He moistened his dry lips. A normal husband would be worried for his wife and his child. But Sirius wasn't. He wasn't worried about this child that was the true heir to his family. He was more worried about Harry.

Adrienne knew the truth about Harry. The fate that befell Mrs. McNair had been more than enough to force Adrienne to keep her silence for the past three months, but Sirius knew that it was unlikely that she would continue to keep that silence after the child was born. And if it was a son, then it would be the one with the true claim to the family. It would be a true pureblood, a real son of the Black family. Adrienne would fight for her son's rights, and Sirius knew that she would be correct.

Sirius leaned against the wall and ran his hands over his tired face. He had been so prepared for an easy night. He had finished all his work early and was ready to relax and get more than three hours of sleep. Then Adrienne's water had broken, and she had started screaming. Sirius's mother had come running. She began to prep her daughter-in-law while Sirius contacted the healer and Malfoys. Sirius had then gone upstairs to collect Harry, but the young boy hadn't been in his room. Sirius had at first been concerned, but the arrival of his cousin and the birth of his child had pushed it slightly from his mind. His mother had finally brought his son down. Sirius guessed that the boy had just been wandering around in another room somewhere.

Sirius stared down at Harry. The boy was watching him with great concern. Sirius tried to smile reassuringly at him, but it likely came out as a grimace. They stood out in the hallway for hours. No one spoke. Lucius and Narcissa whispered together, and Draco had fallen asleep on a chair. Harry stood beside his father, too worried for sleep. He had heard plenty of arguments about the child over the months. He hadn't understood half of them. But he did know how much Sirius didn't want this child.

Finally, around six in the morning, the bedroom door opened up. Walburga stepped out. Sirius pushed off the wall, and Narcissa shook Draco awake. All eyes turned to the former Lady of the Manor. Sirius held his breath. This was it.

Walburga locked her dark eyes with her son's. "The child is born," she announced. The hallway was still silent. "Both are doing well," she continued. The tension in the hall was thick. Narcissa was biting down on her bottom lip, and Lucius had a frown etched into his pale face. Draco was stuck to his mother's side, grey eyes traveling back and forth between Sirius and Harry. Harry's fists were clenched at his sides, and he was moistening his lips.

Sirius was standing rigidly, his eyes narrowed considerably. His jaw was locked tightly, and his hands were shaking. Walburga remained silent, staring at him. Harry took a step forward and pressed himself to his father's side. He grabbed Sirius's hand and felt his father squeeze back tightly.

Finally, Walburga smiled. "It's a little girl."

Collectively, the occupants of the hallway let out the breaths they had been holding. Sirius's breath came out shuddering, and he felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His knees nearly gave out, but he caught himself on the wall. He buried his face in his hands. Harry held back a cheer and wrapped his arms around his father's waist.

Sirius look down at him, am uneasy smile of relief stretched over his face. He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulders. "A girl," he muttered. "A sister." He smiled. Everything would be fine now. Harry still had all his rights as heir to the family name, and no argument Adrienne made would change that. Sirius, his hand still on his son's shoulder, moved forward to go in and see his blood born child and wife.


	18. Hogwarts

**Chapter 18**

Harry Black stood before his father's desk in his private study. Harry kept his back straight and his eyes even with his father's. He suppressed the natural urge to be relaxed around the older man. He wished he was still young enough to not act as an heir to the family was meant to, but he was nearly eleven years old, far too old for running around and pulling pranks on people. For the past few years, his father had taken to personally teaching him all that it meant to become the heir to the Black Family. Harry's study times had greatly increased, and his playtime had been all but severed. He and Draco did not meet to play and practice flying anymore, but rather to practice spells and dueling.

"So it is set, then, Father," Harry asked, his voice carefully kept emotionless.

"Yes," Sirius said, his hands folded over the oak desktop. "You must be prepared for departure in two days time. Have one of the elves pack your things. And remind it that the North is cold. You'll need all your winter clothing."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, bowing his head slightly. Sirius dismissed Harry from the room, and the young boy walked briskly upstairs. It was very late in the evening, and after dinner. Harry would not be called upon again for the night. He removed his broom from it position on the wall and mounted. In seconds, he was flying over London and towards the Muggle girl's house.

As always, she quickly let him in. He had come over earlier than usual, so she instructed him to wait while she went downstairs. He could hear her getting a glass of water and telling her parents that she was going to bed early. They did not object. The Muggle returned and bolted her door shut. Then she walked across the room and turned on the Muggle wireless. About a year ago, they had almost been caught when her parents had thought they heard her talking. To avoid further suspicions, she had forced herself into the habit of constantly listening to the radio.

"Hi, Harry," she said with a smile once everything was set. Harry nodded in his usual greeting. "I wasn't expecting you to come until Saturday."

"I won't be here on Saturday," Harry answered. He placed his broom into the chair he normally sat in, but he himself remained standing. Hermione eyed him with an arched brow. Harry normally made himself right at home during his visits.

Hermione quickly decided that something was bothering Harry, if his pacing across her carpet was any indication. Something must have happened in the few days since he'd last been over. She raked her mind, but she couldn't think of anything that had been out of place in his life that might have escalated. Although she knew he didn't really like when she tried to get him to open up, Hermione asked, "What's the matter? You seem upset."

"I am certainly not upset," Harry responded immediately. Hermione blinked. That was an expected response. She remained silent until he decided to speak. She knew he would eventually. "There is a reason I came over before the weekend," he finally said. Still, Hermione kept silent. He would eventually get to it. "As I said, I won't be here. I am going with my father on a business trip. He wishes that I see how these sorts of things are done, as one day it will become my duty as head of the family."

Hermione nodded, knowing that this wasn't what was bothering him. This was something Harry would be excited to do. It meant spending time with his father away from his stepmother. "That will be interesting," she said. Harry nodded slowly. "I can't wait to hear about it. How long will you be gone, a week or so?"

"No actually," Harry said slowly. "My father's presence is required for the entire summer."

Hermione's smile dropped. "Oh," she said. She brushed a stand of hair from her face and brightened again. "That's okay," she continued. "You'll only have more to tell me, then. And a few months isn't so long. You'll probably be back before I start up school."

The nod she was expecting from Harry did not come. Instead, he was frowning at her wall and refusing to meet her eyes. "Harry?"

He moistened his lips and said, "Father has also decided that I am to attend Drumstrang come fall. I won't be back in Britain again until next June."

Hermione's eyes widened. Next June? That was a whole year from now! Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line. After tonight, it would be a whole year until she saw Harry again. Hermione felt her eyes beginning to water, but she quickly blinked the tears away. Crying would not impress Harry in the least. In fact, he would probably fly right out the window if she turned into a leaking faucet. "That's a long time," she said softly.

Harry, who had finally dropped into his chair, nodded, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning into his folded hands. He didn't understand why, but he couldn't bring himself to look at Hermione. He heard her sniffle and knew that if he looked into her eyes, they would be wet. He didn't want to watch her cry, so he pretended to have not noticed.

Harry, even over the years he had been visiting the girl, had yet to figure out or even remotely understand what it was about her that kept him coming back. He still maintained that there was nothing special about her, that she was just some plain Muggle that he could go the rest of his life never seeing again. So it made little sense to him when he realized that he would miss her. He would miss sneaking from the manor to see her. He would miss talking to her. He would miss her.

* * *

Hermione leaned her head heavily on her hand. She lazily stirred her spoon around her bowl, vaguely noting that she still had a good few bites of her cereal left. Her mother came bustling into the kitchen. She opened the dishwasher and began to place the clean dishes into the cabinets. "You didn't put any sugar in that did you, dear," she asked.

"No, Mum," Hermione answered dully, rolling her eyes at her parents' Anti-Sugar Crusade. Dr. Granger smiled at her daughter and placed the bowl and spoon her husband had been too lazy to get to into the now empty dishwasher.

Hermione turned her attentions back to the bowl and swirling her milk around. She sighed. It had been over a month since Harry had left the country with his father, and Hermione was missing him and their weekly talks terribly. After all he was her best friend, which was odd. Hermione only saw him for a few hours maybe once a week. There were other people, from school or ballet or even in her neighborhood, that she spent more time with, but for some reason, it was Harry whom she was closer with. Harry, who she had only known for a few years and who had still never called her by her name.

She almost laughed aloud. Four years they had known each other, and Harry had never once called her Hermione. And for the life of her, Hermione couldn't figure out why it didn't bother her. After all, to only call her Muggle or Girl was so completely condescending of him. Hermione had always looked down upon that sort of behavior, but with Harry, it didn't matter. Maybe she just liked him enough to overlook that particular fault.

Of course, his almost derogatory names for her weren't the only things about Harry that were snobbish. He had become much haughtier over the past year or so. Hermione knew that his father was taking on a much more personal role in Harry's schooling and preparation as heir. Harry had long ago explained the type of world he lived in, and Hermione had quickly realized that the attitude Harry was developing was perfect for his world. It was what was expected of him.

"Remember that we're going to visit your aunt tomorrow, Hermione," her mother called from the dinning room.

"Yes, Mum," Hermione called back. She didn't particularly like visiting this aunt of hers, but the up side was that the old woman always bought books for her niece. At least Hermione would have a new text to drown herself in to avoid conversation.

Hermione had just shoved the last spoonful of cereal into her mouth when her father walked into the kitchen with the mail. He tossed envelops into two separate piles, depending on whether they were addressed to him or his wife. He stopped short on one small but thick envelope. From the table, Hermione could just make out some sort of emerald colored seal on the back. "Hermione, this is for you," her father said with an air of slight confusion.

Curiously, Hermione stood from her chair and accepted the letter her father was holding. "Who's it from," her mother asked as she wiped down the counters. Her husband shrugged.

Hermione blinked at the bright emerald ink displaying her name and address. Oddly and creepily, the address was exact down to her room. She flipped the envelope over and gasped aloud. The seal consisted of four animals and a word Hermione recognized: Hogwarts. "What is it, Hermione," her mother asked.

Hermione found that she could not answer. With shaking hands, she tore the top of the envelope open and took out the parchment inside. The same bright ink from the envelope coated the letter. The header was written in loopy letters, reading the name of the school and the current headmaster. The letter read:

_Dear Miss Granger, _

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

It was signed by the deputy headmistress, one Minerva McGonagall. Hermione wracked her brain, trying to remember if Harry had ever mentioned her before. The name sounded vaguely familiar. She stared with wide eyes at the letter for several minutes, reading the first line over and over again. Slowly, a smile stretched over her face. She let out a triumphant cheer and jumped excitedly into the air.

She was a witch! She was a real, live witch! She couldn't wait to tell Harry!

"Hermione," her mother asked, "what is it? What does that letter say?"

With a beaming smile, Hermione thrust the letter into her parents' hands. The dentists read the letter, looked up at each other, and quickly re-read it again to make sure they weren't seeing things. "Witchcraft?" her mother breathed.

"I'm a witch," Hermione cried out happily. Her mother dropped weakly into a chair, and her father leaned back against the counter, the letter still clutched tightly in his hands.

"This has to be some sort of a joke," her father muttered, his brown eyes scanning the letter once more.

"No joke at all, Dad," Hermione said cheerfully. Her parents both eyed her wondering how on earth she wasn't surprised. "It makes sense now," Hermione continued. "Remember when Grandma's evil little cat tried clawing me at Christmas and suddenly its claws were gone? I must have done that! It was wandless magic!" Excitedly, Hermione pulled out the school supply list enclosed with her acceptance letter. It included spell books, potions equipment, and uniform requirements. Hermione squealed with delight. She would get to go to Diagon Alley for these things. Harry had told her so much about it, and it sounded absolutely fascinating.

Her parents muttered to each other about that strange event while Hermione continued to dig through the envelope. There was a separate letter informing her that she was what was called a Muggle-born, and that because of this, she would be needing assistance from another witch or wizard to acquire her school things and acquaint her with her new world. Hermione almost laughed. From all that Harry had told her, Hermione was sure she could have gotten almost everything done on her own. And she certainly didn't need to become acquainted with the wizarding world. But she remembered what Harry had said about Muggles not being allowed to know about wizards. She would have to act surprised about everything so as to avoid suspicion. The note said that a witch by the name of Gloria Stangleton would arrive at her house in two days time to act as a guide for her and her parents. Hermione grinned. The trip to Aunt May's would have to be cancelled.

And so a few days later, Hermione sat in her bedroom, her new school things arranged neatly by the foot of her bed. She felt a bit bad for her parents, who were still terribly confused and a bit reluctant about sending Hermione off to a wizarding school. Hermione had had to do some fast talking when Mrs. Stangleton had informed her parents of the war. Thank God they had been in a bookshop. Hermione, who honestly had been skimming through a work called _Hogwarts: A History_, had been able to use the book to bring up a good point about Dumbledore as headmaster. Stangleton, who was obviously on the Order's side with the way she praised the old man, had helped Hermione to inform her parents that indeed she would be very safe at Hogwarts with Albus Dumbledore in charge.

Of course, Hermione was too excited to really worry about her parents' anxieties. She knew she would be safe at Hogwarts. Harry had said that the Dark Lord would not attack the school because of Dumbledore.

Hermione sighed. She wished Harry were still in London. She would have been able to tell him. She honestly didn't know what Harry's reaction to the news would be. He hated mudbloods so much, and that's what Hermione was now. But he also hated Muggles, but he was her friend. So maybe he would be proud of her. After all, a mudblood was at least a small step above a Muggle. Hermione figured the only thing could do was wait until next June when Harry returned from Drumstrang to tell him. She might have sent an owl, but Harry had said that Drumstrang was unplotable. Hermione didn't think an unimportant British owl would be able to get there, even if it was magical.

* * *

Hermione stared in awe at the large red engine of the Hogwarts Express. It was amazing. Just as in Diagon Alley, hundreds of wizards and witches bustled around her, a few were confused Muggles like her own parents. She watched as mothers wrapped their children in tearful good-bye hugs and administered last minute lectures. She saw two identical red headed boys run away from their scolding mother, laughing all the while.

She saw a few older looking students with their wands out, performing charms to show off. A few younger children were watching eagerly. It seemed that most people had pets of sorts. A good number had owls resting on their shoulders, some had cats weaving between their feet, and Hermione though she spotted a rat or two.

The whistle of the train rang shrilly through the platform. Students began a mad rush to board. Hermione turned to her mother and father to give them a final hug good-bye. With a cheerful smile, Hermione turned and hopped aboard the train. She waved as the cars began to roll away. Hermione slipped down the crowded hall and into an empty compartment. She looked out the window as they pulled out of King's Cross. It would be some hours before they made it to Scotland, for that was where Harry had told her Hogwarts was located. Although it would be a while, Hermione decided to change into her uniform. After a few minutes, she slipped out of the long black robe. It was an odd piece of clothing, and she certainly wasn't used to it. However, the pleated skirt, blouse, and sweater were much more familiar.

Just as Hermione finished buckling her shoes over her dark hose, there was a knock at the door. Hermione called for the person to enter. The door opened to reveal two boys about her age. One was very tall and lanky with flaming red hair and numerous freckles. He had a long nose and large ears. His clothes looked second hand, and there was a smudge of dirt across his nose. The second boy was much shorter and pudgier. He had a wavy mass of brown hair and rather large front teeth, not that Hermione was really one to talk. His ears stuck out rather comically, and he stood pigeon toed. For some reason, he looked worried and nervous.

"S—sorry to bother you," he said. "I lost my pet toad. Have you seen one around?"

Hermione was about to offer him her sympathies when suddenly she saw something green hopping around the boys' feet. "It that it," she asked, pointing a slim finger.

"Trevor!" the boy cried, diving to the ground and wrapping his hands around the toad. It croaked as he held it carefully to his chest. "Thanks so much," he said with a smile.

"Of course," Hermione responded in kind. She motioned to the seat across from her. "Do you two have a compartment yet?" They replied in the negative, and Hermione offered to share hers with them. The boys sat across from her. "Are you first years," Hermione asked. Both nodded. "Are you nervous at all?"

The short one certainly looked it, and his nodding confirmed it. His friend, on the other hand, shrugged. "I've had five older brothers come through Hogwarts. Three of them are still there, so I guess it's not too big a deal, other than going off from home for the first time."

"I think it's all going to be so fascinating," Hermione said, her eyes gleaming. "We're going to learn so much. I mean to think real spells and potions! We'll be able to fly, and we'll see fairytale creatures." She had read through all her books, some of which mentioned creatures like unicorns and fairies, which Hermione had thought existed only in stories.

"You're Muggle-born, aren't you," he asked.

Hermione sucked in a breath. She had forgotten. Not everyone liked mudbloods here. But he had said Muggle-born. Knowing it would do no good to lie, Hermione answered, "Yes."

"Whoa, I've never known one before," he said. "My dad's obsessed with Muggles though. He'd get a big kick from talking to you."

The other suddenly brought up a point. "We never introduced ourselves," he said.

"Oh," Hermione said, realizing it too. "I'm sorry. I'm Hermione Granger." She held out her hand and shook it with both as they introduced themselves as Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley. Hermione's eyes widened and she sharply jerked her hand from Ron's grasp. "Sorry," she muttered, trying to cover up for her spastic reaction.

"Are you all right, Hermione," Neville asked in concern. Hermione only nodded, her eyes wide. Harry had told her about the Weasleys and Longbottoms. Both were families very against the Dark Lord and were disgusting blood traitors. Hermione bit her bottom lip. Both boys seemed very nice. It would be very rude of her to shove them out of the compartment because of what Harry had said about them. And it would look very strange for a Muggle girl to know what a blood traitor was and to deny friendship with one. Hermione decided she would just go with the flow for now and take anything they said with a grain of salt.

Quickly, Hermione brought up a change in topic. They talked idly for some time until a trolley came rolling up with very large amounts of sweets. Hermione spotted a packet of Chocolate Frogs, and she jumped up to buy a few. Harry often brought her magical candies, but the Chocolate Frogs held a special place in her heart. Harry knew that and brought them most often. She had quite a collection of cards. Also, the candy Harry gave her was the only she ever had, as candy was off limits with her dentist parents.

Hermione hopped back into her seat contently with her purchase. She looked up to notice Ron and Neville watching her. Ron had a mischievous grin on his face. Hermione, far from being a simpleton, knew exactly what he was thinking. He was expecting her to be very surprised when the Frog came to life. With a smile, Hermione opened the box. The Frog looked up at her and made its escape attempt. Hermione expertly shot out her hand and grabbed it in midair. With a plop, she shoved the whole thing into her mouth before checking her card. Alberic Grunnion. She already had two of him.

She looked up at the two boys. Ron was blinking oddly at her. "You have good reflexes," he said, seemingly impressed. Hermione just smiled.

It wasn't much longer that the three began to talk of school again. Neville was very nervous about his Sorting. "My family's been Gryffindor for so long. My Gran will have my head if I'm not one too. I can already hear it: Your father and mother were Gryffindors! You should have been one too!"

Ron seemed to share his sentiments. "My brothers would never let me hear the end of it," he sighed. "And my parents would be disappointed. I know they would."

"Why do you want Gryffindor," Hermione asked. Harry had always spoken so negatively of the Gryffindors. Hermione couldn't imagine anyone wanting to be in that House.

"Because it's the best House," Ron responded as if to say that the sky was blue and grass was green. Hermione arched a brow. She certainly didn't feel that way. Ron mistook her expression for confusion. "That's right, you don't know." Hermione blinked.

Ron leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "When we get to Hogwarts we're all going to be Sorted into four different Houses. Each House is named for one of the four Founders of the school," he explained.

"Each House is really different," Neville added. "Gryffindor took in the brave and noble, Ravenclaw the intelligent, Slytherin the cunning, and Hufflepuff all the rest."

"Basically," Ron said, "Gryffindors are the best. Ravenclaws are bookworms. Slytherins are evil. And Hufflepuff is leftovers." Hermione resisted the urge to step in and tell the story more accurately. It would seem odd that the ignorant Muggle would know the story more eloquently than a pureblood, even if he was a blood traitor.

Neville sighed miserably. "I just know I'm going to get in Hufflepuff. Gran will skin me alive."

"Which one do you think sounds more like you, Hermione," Ron asked.

Hermione certainly knew that answer. "Ravenclaw," she said. "I've always been what you're calling a bookworm."

Ron held up his hands. "No offense," he said. Hermione smiled to show that she wasn't offended. In fact, she took pride in her intelligence. "At least you know you've got no chance for Slytherin, and that's a good thing. Slytherin never takes people who aren't purebloods."

"Why is that so bad," Hermione asked with a slight frown. Of course, Ron didn't know it, but he was insulting the House her best friend's family belonged to. She would certainly not sit here and let him do that unchallenged.

"Well," Ron said running a hand through his flaming hair, "it's like I said. Slytherins are evil. Muggle-borns get a guide to take them to Diagon Alley the first time, right?" Hermione nodded. "Yours did tell you about the war, didn't he?" Again Hermione nodded. "So then you know that the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who hate Muggles and Muggle-borns. You-Know-Who was a Slytherin. Dark wizards are Slytherins."

Hermione knew this. She had known it for years. But she didn't necessarily think it was evil. After all, everyone was entitled to their own opinions. Of course, she did think that the Dark Lord was going about everything the wrong way. Killing wasn't going to help anyone in the end.

"But you're jumping to conclusions and stereotyping. I'm sure that there are some Dark wizards from other Houses, and I can't imagine that every Slytherin is evil," Hermione said smartly. Harry wasn't evil. "I'm sure it wouldn't be all that bad being a Slytherin."

Ron shook his head. "You'll see," he said somberly.

When the train pulled into the station, the students flowed from their compartments. Hermione stuck close to Ron and Neville in the crowd. From up near the engine, a booming voice called out, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Hermione gasped. The man calling for the new students was simply huge. He towered above all their heads. His size must have been very unusual because nearly every other first year student was staring up at him in awe. "C'mon," the large man bellowed over the noise at the platform. "Firs' years, this way. Follow me."

He led them down a dark path to the edge of a lake. The large man ordered them into the numerous boats floating atop the glossy water. Hermione, Ron, and Neville scrambled into one together. Once everyone was seated and at the man's command, the boats glided forwards through the black water. Hermione marveled that they weren't being propelled by any sort of mechanical means. It was all magic.

It was completely dark around them, only the small lamps on the boats providing any light. They passed under a curtain of ivy and saw their first glimpse of the castle. Hermione sucked in a breath. It was spectacular. There were spiraling towers and hundreds of windows glowing against the black sky. Hermione bit down on her bottom lip to keep from squealing in excitement.

In the middle of the lake, something splashed nearby a boat. One of the girls screamed. The large man called over his shoulder, "Nothin' ter worry about, now. Jus' the Giant Squid." Not all of the students were calmed by his words.

After the journey across the lake, the large man led them up a passageway and up to a large door. He knocked, and a stern looking woman, whose hair was tied tightly at the back of her head, greeted them. "I got the firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the man said.

The deputy headmistress thanked Hagrid—at least that's what Hermione thought she called him—and motioned for the new students to follow her. She led them towards two large wooden doors behind which they could all hear the drone of hundreds of voices. Hermione guessed the rest of the students were already in there. Professor McGonagall welcomed the first years, who were all crowded closely together and staring around the hall in awe. She explained a bit about the purpose of the Sorting and the House Point system. Then she left.

"What do you think we have to do to be Sorted," a girl behind Hermione asked. "My sister wouldn't tell me. She said I just had to wait for my turn."

Ron said to Hermione and Neville, "One of my brothers said it was a test and that it hurt. But I think he was joking. I hope," he added. Hermione covered her mouth with a hand. She certainly hoped Ron's brother had been kidding. Harry hadn't actually told Hermione how people were Sorted, and suddenly she was feeling very nervous about it.

"Do you think we need to know any spells," Hermione asked, wringing her hands together. "I knew I should have read more!" She began to mutter as many of the spells as she could remember from reading under her breath, wondering which ones she would need.

"What if we have to fight a dragon," someone asked loudly.

"Or a troll," another girl added anxiously.

"Preposterous," a voice suddenly snapped over all the commotion the other first years were making. "You idiots should listen to yourselves. They aren't going to make a bunch of untrained children fight some of the most dangerous creatures in the wizarding world."

Another voice joined in, sounding just as uppity as the first, "But you must note that these people are merely simpletons with nothing better to do than fancy themselves more capable than they are. Dragons and trolls!" He laughed, but it was without any amusement.

Hermione was too short to see over the heads of those in front of her, so she could not get a glimpse of the rude boys who were continuing to make fun of the rest of their peers. She and Neville both looked up at Ron, who was tall enough to see. "Who is it," Neville asked.

Ron snorted. "Take a guess," he said, and added for Hermione's benefit, "Those two are cousins from really old, dark families. Black and Malfoy."

Hermione was certain that her heart had stopped. Ron had just said—but that couldn't be right! Harry was at Drumstrang in the north! Hermione pushed and squeezed her way through the crowd of students before her, ignoring Neville and Ron as they called after her. Hermione burst from between two identical, dark skinned girls, and her jaw dropped.

Standing just a few feet away was Harry! His eyes were drooped in an almost lazy fashion, as though his surrounding weren't of enough interest to him to pay full attention. He was standing tall, despite leaning slightly on the stairway banister. Hermione was sure he had grown some since May. Beside Harry was a pale boy with pointed features and wearing the same bored expression as Harry. Hermione knew that was his cousin Draco. Harry spoke often of him as though they were brothers.

Having noticed the movement from the corner of his eye, Harry turned his grey orbs towards the other students. They landed right on Hermione. Harry's eyes widened considerably, and he shot up from the banister. His jaw hung loosely as he stared at her. Hermione stared back at him with a matching expression of shock. Although it seemed like they were locked in gaze for hours, seconds later, the sharp footsteps of the deputy headmistress befell their ears.

Her voice cut through Harry and Hermione's stunned silence. She ordered them to file into line and follow her through the doors. Ron and Neville finally got a hold of Hermione and pulled her in between them. Harry disappeared from Hermione's sight in front of his cousin. McGonagall led the first years through the Great Hall between two tables where the students' robes were trimmed with yellow or blue. They gathered before the Staff Table and a stool on which sat a ragged and patched hat. Hermione blinked at it and was quite surprised when it erupted into song.

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge one what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart._

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you're a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

The students and teachers alike burst into applause. Hermione felt too shocked to join in. A hat had just sung a song! Professor McGonagall stood beside the Hat, a long sheet of parchment in her hands. "I will call your names, and you will place the Hat on your head to be Sorted," she explained.

"Put on a hat," Ron whispered. "I swear I'll kill Fred!" Hermione could only assume Fred was his brother.

Hermione did her best to locate Harry in the crowd of first years without moving her head. His was one of the first names called. With his head held high and not a trace of nervousness, Harry strolled up to the stool and sat down. McGonagall lowered the Hat, but it had barely touched his head before calling out, "SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the far right exploded with applause. Harry smirked triumphantly as he made his way to his House table. Hermione saw everyone within reach hold out their hands for Harry to shake. Harry shook hand with all of them, but he didn't look in the least impressed with their brown nosing.

When the older woman called Hermione's name, Hermione walked forward on shaking legs. The Hat, being so large, fell over her eyes. Suddenly there was a voice in her head. Looking back, Hermione was proud that she hadn't screamed in surprise. "_Hm, let's see, let's see. Where to put you? Quite a mind you have, astounding, in fact! But let's search more. Very brave, yes, full of justice. Honest and true, yes. Hm..._"

Hermione gripped the edges of the stool tightly. The Hat was talking to her. The _Hat_ was _talking_ to her. If it was talking in her head, maybe it could hear her thoughts. She tried to portray to it, beyond the general creeped out feeling she was experiencing, that Ravenclaw would do just fine. Harry wouldn't like to see her in Gryffindor. The Hat continued to mutter to itself. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, it said, "_I see it now! Yes, this is the only way to go. You'll understand soon, child, why I'm putting you into _GRYFFINDOR!"

The Hat was removed from Hermione's head, but she did not stand from the seat. Instead, Hermione sat froze. Her eyes were so wide they hurt from the strain. She had stopped breathing. She didn't notice the clapping coming from her now Housemates. A gentle shove from McGonagall broke Hermione from her spell. She turned her head to stare helplessly at the older woman and tried to convey mentally her desire to be re-Sorted. "Go on," McGonagall said gently motioning to the Gryffindor table with her head.

Hermione slid from the stool, her eyes locking with Harry's. He stared at her unblinkingly for a few seconds before shaking his head, a frown forming on his face. Then he turned his grey gaze back to the Sorting. Hermione trudged to the table and sat down heavily. She had never felt so ashamed in her life. She curled into a slight ball, her hands clamped firmly over her mouth. She blinked rapidly to resist the flow of tears that she so badly wanted to let loose.

She barely registered Ron and Neville both being placed into Gryffindor with her or Harry's cousin going to Slytherin with him. Ron and Neville sat beside Hermione, watching her cautiously for the short remainder of the Sorting and the headmaster's odd speech.

She was too upset to be impressed with the way the feast magically appeared on the golden plates before them. Hermione didn't eat the delicious food before her. She spent the entire feast trying to catch Harry's eye, hoping that she would be able to portray to him just how sorry she was that she had been placed in this awful House. But Harry refused to look her way.

When the feast was over, Dumbledore led the school in the singing of the school song, but Hermione didn't feel much like singing. The students were released to their dorms, and one of Ron's brothers led the new Gryffindors away. Hermione hoped against hope that Harry would acknowledge her at the door, but she was disappointed when he breezed past her surrounded by fellow Slytherins.

Percy, which was Ron's brother's name, brought them to a portrait of a very fat lady in a very fluffy pink gown. She looked up and asked regally for the password. Hermione knew that portraits and pictures in the magical world could move and talk, even though she hadn't ever seen it outside of Chocolate Frog cards, but she was too emotionally drained to be impressed. Percy separated the girls from the boys and sent them up the winding staircases. Hermione offered Neville and Ron and muttered good night before trailing after her giggling roommates.

They entered their room to find that their trunks had been placed at the feet of their respective beds. Hermione silently slipped into her pajamas, ignoring the other girls' attempts at conversation. She climbed into bed and pulled the curtains closed. She slipped under the sheet and clutched tightly at an old stuffed bear she had brought from home. Then, she couldn't help but cry.


	19. When Muggles Become Witches

**Chapter 19**

Harry Black sat beside Draco in the dungeon classroom where Potions was held, their cauldrons simmering before them. Professor Snape, a friend of the cousins' fathers, was both the teacher of the class and Head of their House. Although it was only the first day of classes, Harry and Draco already knew that they would be favorites in Snape's eyes. They would have to be, what with who their fathers were. Harry suppressed a smirk. It was good to know. Snape would allow him to get away with nearly anything, and Harry already, being a Black, was one of, if not the most, respected Slytherins in the school.

As Snape droned on at the board, Harry leaned lazily on his hand. He already knew all the things the greasy Death Eater was saying. He and Draco had studied them at least a year ago. Snape turned sharply and asked a question to a day dreaming Weasley. The blood traitor stared blankly at the professor, obviously having no previous knowledge of the course. Beside him, Hermione Granger's hand shot into the air, and she bounced in her seat, eager to answer all the questions Weasley was failing to answer. Snape was bluntly ignoring her.

Harry watched her from the corner of his eye. He knew that she had the answers down to the most minute details and probably could write an essay on each. She was just like that. Her room had been bursting with textbooks. In fact, she had been reading the first time he'd met her.

Harry was still not over the shock of seeing Hermione at Hogwarts, despite the fact that he had been up all night pondering it. Part of him was sure he was dreaming this whole thing. After all, Hermione was a Muggle. Harry shook his head. Muggles could become witches. He knew that, and therefore it was completely possible that his Muggle was a witch. He just hadn't thought it probable.

After he had been properly Sorted into Slytherin, Harry had locked his gaze onto Hermione, watching and waiting for the Hat to place her. He had expected her to be put into Ravenclaw. She fit the description of Ravenclaws perfectly. He had been very surprised when the Hat had yelled out that she was a Gryffindor. She had obviously been too, if the way she remained seated on the stool for several seconds after the Hat had spoken was any indication.

She had immediately looked to Harry, and he hadn't been able to hide his disappointment. His Muggle was a filthy Gryffindor. But she wasn't a Muggle anymore. Now she was a mudblood. Harry wasn't sure what he preferred her as.

The assignment for the day was very simple, a cure for boils. Snape stalked through the classroom, watching and judging his students. He only praised Harry and Draco. The cousins sent each other pleased smirks. The Longbottom boy managed to melt another Gryffindor's cauldron. The potion spilled across the room and over the boy, who quickly broke out into large, red boils. Harry sniggered. It looked painful. He was taken up to the Hospital Wing, and the students were released about an hour later, after Weasley had been yelled at for not correcting Neville's addition of quills to the potion.

Harry quickly swept from the room, Draco and the other Slytherins moving to keep up. Harry had to leave before Hermione tried to speak with him. As the only class Slytherins had with Gryffindors was Potions, Harry was easily able to avoid the girl. The next time he was forced around her was the flying lessons. But he hardly let that bother him. First years weren't allowed their own brooms, and Harry had desperately been missing the feeling of flying high in the air. He and Draco had been talking loudly and eagerly about the small chance to show off their flying skills. Both knew they were talented flyers, so why hide it?

The afternoon on which their first flying lesson was held was clear and sunny. Madame Hooch lined the children up along the school's tattered old brooms. Harry and Draco sneered down at the monstrosities. If they hadn't missed flying so much, they would have never touched the things. When Hooch signaled, the students commanded their brooms into their hands, but Harry and Draco were some of the few whose brooms obeyed. Harry watched as Hermione repeatedly said, "Up!" to her broom, which flopped lazily on the grass.

Hooch tried to tell Draco that his hold on the broom was completely wrong, to which his cousin scoffed, "I'm certainly capable of forming my own style of flying." Hooch had frowned, but she did not respond. Then she announced that they would practice take off and hovering. She counted to three and blew her whistle. Harry and Draco immediately hovered into the air. In jerky movements, the Longbottom boy lifted into the air, far higher than Hooch had intended for the students to go. The cousins laughed loudly as Longbottom shot off towards the castle. He must have gone up twenty feet before slipping sideways from the broom.

Hooch and several students ran over to help him. The Slytherins hung back, all howling with mirth. Harry grasped the handle of his broom tightly to prevent his own fall to the ground. Hooch pulled Longbottom to his feet and ordered Harry and Draco to the ground. To ensure that no one would fly without supervision, she sent them all inside while bringing the crying boy to the Hospital Wing.

Harry and Draco led the way back down to the dungeons, Harry doing his best to ignore the heated glare Hermione was shooting him.

It was a few days later that Harry found himself involved in the first real quarrel of the term with the Gryffindors. It was a Saturday, and thus all the students were free to walk about the unrestricted parts of the castle at their leisure. Harry, Draco, and several other Slytherins were talking advantage of that time.

When they came upon Weasley, Longbottom, and Hermione, it took hardly a second before the confrontation began. Most of the insults the Slytherins were throwing were directed at the two boys, whose families the Slytherins knew to hate. Harry smirked through the whole thing, delighting in the stuttering of Longbottom and unintelligent growls of Weasley. But then someone tuned on Hermione.

Suddenly, Harry found no amusement with the situation. He crossed his arms and watched, a frown etched onto his face. Hermione had pulled herself up to full height, however, it wasn't very impressive, especially with older students around her. Her hair was bushier than normal, and her eyes were narrowed fiercely. But Harry could see the moisture in those eyes at the hurtful names they called her.

Nearly snarling, Harry pushed to the front of the Slytherins. They all fell silent. Harry merely shot the Gryffindors a sneer and turned to walk away. "Harry, where are you going," Draco called after him.

"This is pointless," Harry said over his shoulder.

"What are you talking about," Pansy asked incredibly.

Harry turned around and faced them. "I have better things to do with my time than to remind an inferior creature that she is inferior. The Muggle knows her place," he said, grey eyes drifting to Hermione, wondering if she understood his meanings. He doubted it; she looked miserable. "Besides, she's just a little girl. Surely we could find better prey." He smirked.

"Are you standing up for her," Montague, a sixth year, asked dangerously.

Harry's face fell flat and emotionless. He narrowed his eyes at the older boy. "When have you ever known me to care about Muggles," he asked in a near growl. "Do what you want. I have better things to do. And must I remind you, Montague, what happens to those who anger Blacks?"

Montague's face paled slightly, and he shook his head. "Good," Harry said and walked away, the other Slytherins trailing after him. Draco shot Hermione a suspicious look over his shoulder, but quickly turned his attentions back to his cousin.

* * *

Lily Potter walked down the halls of Hogwarts castle, her footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The students were all in classes, and not even the older students with free blocks were to be seen. Sometimes it gave Lily the shivers, being all alone in the huge halls, but sometimes it reminded her of her times as a prefect and Head Girl. But that was back when things were simple, before she and her loved ones had become part of the war. It was before the war had taken two of the dearest people in the world to her and given them to the Dark side.

Lily pushed the thoughts from her mind as she headed for the headmaster's office, her husband and daughter on either side. They presented the stone gargoyle with the proper password and rode up the winding staircase. Upon gaining permission, the small family walked into the splendid office. "Grandpa!"

Professor Dumbledore smiled warmly and swooped the little girl up into a swinging hug. "Hello, Olivia, my dear," he greeted happily.

Olivia shook her dark auburn hair from her eyes. "Grandpa, can I have a candy?"

"Olivia," Lily said, "you need to wait and be asked if you'd like one."

"It's not a problem, Lily, dear," Dumbledore said.

"Yeah, Mum, it's not a problem," Olivia echoed her surrogate grandfather. She had long ago taken to referring to the elderly professor as her grandfather, and no one had ever bothered to correct her.

With twinkling eyes, Dumbledore offered the young girl a handful of Ice Mice and Pepper Imps. Olivia squealed with delight and ran off to a corner of the office to enjoy the effects of her treats. Lily and James slipped into the seats before the headmaster's desk. The old man leaned back in his own chair and folded her hands together.

"How is he," James immediately blurted out. Lily bit her bottom lip as she looked to her old professor.

"He seems to be doing fine," Dumbledore said. "I've had Severus report to me of any issues with Harry, but he seems to nearly be a model student. He's very bright, nearly at the top of all his classes. He seems to be a leader of sorts among the Slytherins, both in his year and above."

"It's the Black name," James said. "The family's too powerful for anyone to cross a single member."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Anything else, headmaster," Lily asked, desperate as always to hear news of her son.

"He still hates Muggles," Dumbledore said, knowing exactly what Lily had been hinting at. "There was no way, living in that family, that he could do much else. Severus has told us that Harry is very close to Sirius, and with the degree of brainwashing that was done on Sirius, Harry could never begin to be anything other than what Sirius teaches him."

Lily sighed, and James said, "But, Professor, remember that Sirius overcame his family's prejudices before, and he had hated people like us just as much as the rest of his family. Who's to say he can't do it again? And Harry's a Potter, no matter who raised him."

"Would that it were so simple, James," Dumbledore said. "Harry hates Gryffindors and Muggles, in a nutshell, anything that is not pure and Slytherin. I do not foresee this changing, as regrettable as that is. He and Draco Malfoy have already gained enemies—as you four did with Severus—with Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born girl."

Lily groaned aloud. "That's perfect," she said sarcastically. "The two most stuck up, Dark families against some of the biggest blood traitors in Britain. And the girl is Muggle-born? Good Lord, they must be ripping her a new one." Lily could certainly remember the experiences she had had against the Slytherins, and that had been before the war had started up and prejudices really ran wild.

Dumbledore nodded again. "Yes," he said solemnly, "the Muggle-born children, what few were allowed to come after their parents were informed of the war, will be facing difficult times against those children who hold their parents' prejudice. But Miss Granger is resilient, and who better to help her through this than a Weasley and a Longbottom?"

Lily smiled. Who indeed? She couldn't say that she knew the Weasley children very well, but she had met them—all seven of them—and worked closely with Arthur and Molly, who had long been Inner Circle members alongside her and James. The Weasleys were some of the best people around, very kind and very trustworthy. Molly had been such a great help to Lily more times that she could ever begin to count or repay. Weasleys didn't tolerate people like the Blacks and the Malfoys, for obvious reasons. They certainly would have passed that onto their children. The little Muggle-born girl would be fine.

Lily hated to think of how much grief the girl was sure to get from Harry, though, and certainly she would get it if the two groups had become school rivals. Of course, Harry didn't know that his mother—his real mother—was that very thing he was insulting. And if he stayed with Sirius, he would never know, not unless the Order could somehow get a hold of the General. But that was a far reach. Sirius would not allow himself to get into a situation where capture was possible, and even if he did, trying to take him down without killing him would be a ridiculously great challenge in itself. Sirius would not hold back any of his power if his capture seemed impending. He wouldn't hesitate to kill those attacking him, and Lily would be damned if she died before seeing her friend back home where he belonged.

Lily knew James felt the same way, even more so than she did. While Sirius had been one of the best friends she'd ever had, she could never hope to come to the level of closeness that Sirius and her husband had shared. Sometimes it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. They were the same in so many ways, but then again, so different. They had seen such different things. While both purebloods of very old families, Sirius had grown up Dark; James had grown up Light. Now, James was hero of the Light, and Sirius was hero of the Dark. Lily prayed every night that they could somehow get Sirius back, although she wondered if it could ever be the same again.

When Sirius had taken Harry and they had though him to be dead, Lily and James had both been so devastated. To some degree, they still were. Their only son was growing up as a Dark wizard, as a loyal follower of the evil that his real parents had spent much of their lives fighting, the very man who could only be killed by Harry. But if Harry was a loyal follower, he would not turn against his master, especially not if Sirius was still loyal.

Lily had been so angry with Sirius after he kidnapped her son. She had been furious for weeks. James, strangely, had not shown any anger towards Sirius. He had been furious that the Dark Lord now had Harry under his grasp, but he had never been angry with Sirius. No matter what Sirius did, James was never angry. Lily had often marveled at her husband's behavior. James fumed at every other Death Eater, and he had physically pounced on Snape on more than five occasions. But not even a frown twisted his face at the mentions of Sirius's actions in the name of Voldemort. Lily was constantly angry with the things Sirius did, but she always forgave him—the real him—and still remained firm in her opinions and effort to get him back. But James never even got mad. She had asked him about it, but his answers had been so vague.

"Do you think there's any chance we can get him back, though," James asked.

Dumbledore intertwined his fingers, thumbs stroking his long beard in a thoughtful manner. "That is very dangerous," he finally said after a few moments.

"But if we get Harry back, we can get Sirius," James insisted.

"Get Sirius mad, you mean," Lily said.

James looked about to protest, but Dumbledore held up a hand. James closed his mouth, and Dumbledore said, "Lily is right. Taking Harry back while he is here would greatly anger Sirius, no doubt to the point of reckless destruction. If we kidnap his son, the only thing he loves, then we are asking for everything that Sirius does in retaliation. You must also take into consideration the amount of trauma that it would do Harry to take him from everything he knows and tell him that it is a lie, that he is the thing he has been raised to hate, that he is meant to fight the final battle against a man he has been raised to serve."

James frowned. "But what if Harry could be brought to our side? Isn't it possible that Sirius would stop and think?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I doubt it, James, as much as I wish it could happen. It is a long shot that Harry could be turned, and an even longer one that Sirius would follow." James nodded slowly, the frown on his face evidence that he disagreed.

Dumbledore glanced down at his splendid pocket watch and stood from his chair. "It is time that we are going," he said. "Olivia, dear," he called.

Olivia looked up from the corner where she had been playing with the Sorting Hat. She pushed the brim of the Hat, which, being so large, fell clear to her shoulders, and blinked at the old man. She wiped some of the icing of the Ice Mice she had been eating from around her mouth and answered, "Yes, Grandpa?"

"We are going to a meeting. Can we trust you in here alone?"

Olivia grinned widely. "Of course," she had in a tone that was only slightly sincere. James chuckled, and Lily shook her head, a smile on her face.

Dumbledore smiled at her with twinkling eyes and muttered to his pet phoenix, "Watch her, Fawkes." The phoenix let out a beautiful noise, and the three Order members left the office for the school's conference room.

After entering the conference room and the proper locking and silencing spells had been performed, Dumbledore took his seat, Lily and James on either side. Lily cast a concerned glace towards Molly Weasley. Arthur had one arm around her shoulders, and the other was tightly gripping her hand. Molly's face was red from strain, and tears were leaking down her cheeks from swollen hazel eyes. Lily looked to James, but he just shrugged.

The meeting started, and soon Dumbledore began the stretch where they informed the other members of any losses or gains in sides. It was then that they learned why Molly was so upset. Her brothers, Gideon and Fabian, had been killed last night. It had taken several Death Eaters to bring them down, but the one who delivered the final blows was Sirius Black.

At the mention of his name, Molly shrieked loudly. She began cursing him with every bit of energy she had in her body. James jumped up and shot back, "Don't talk about Sirius like that!"

"I'll talk about him any way I want," Molly screamed. "That bastard killed my brothers!"

"You don't know Sirius," James yelled back. "You don't know anything about him. That's not the real him. He would never do anything like that!"

Molly leapt to her feet, snarling viciously at James, who stood to glare back. "I have no doubt that the Sirius you once knew was a good man. But you have to accept a few facts, James Potter. Sirius Black is now the most loyal and ruthless Death Eater in You-Know-Who's army. Sirius Black is your enemy now!"

"Sirius is my best friend. He is my brother and I will never turn against him. I don't care what you say; I don't care what anyone says. I will never abandon him!"

Molly stared back at him through narrowed eyes, and a few more tears leaked out. She drew her shoulders back and stood straight. Rigidly, she said, "You have a good heart, James, but you're wasting it on someone who would sooner see you dead."

Dumbledore finally stood from his chair and motioned for the two to sit down and stop arguing. For the remainder of the meeting, James shot Molly little glares, which Molly ignored, holding back her fiery temper very well. When they were released, Dumbledore and McGonagall ran off to see to a student matter, leaving James and Lily to walk back to the headmaster's office alone to pick up Olivia.

James was silently fuming the whole walk back, and Lily held in the inevitable question as long as she could. But as they stepped onto the ever-winding staircase, Lily blurted out, "Why are you never mad at him?"

James was silent for a few minutes, and Lily expected him to not answer. But then, as they stepped off the stairs, James said softly, "I was mad at him once, and I almost lost him then. I'll never do it again."

Lily slowly nodded. It was more than James had ever said on his lack of anger with Sirius, but it was far more than he would ever need to say. Lily understood and remembered everything about that. It had been a bad time back in their sixth year. The entire school had been affected, perhaps not personally involved, but they had all felt the results.

Lily, along with the rest of the students, hadn't known exactly what had happened at the time, only the four boys had. She now knew that Sirius had told Snape that Remus was a werewolf and had given the Slytherin knowledge about the passage under the Whomping Willow. But, back then, it had been strange. One day they had all been fine, laughing and talking and being their normal, immature selves. But suddenly, James, Remus, and Peter had all been furious with Sirius, refusing to speak with him or even be in his presence. Lily could not think of a moment where she had been more confused. The four boys' friendships were famous. How could any of them be angry with one another? But Sirius seemed to have done something horrible in the eyes of the others. However, Sirius had tried to apologize. He had actually said that he was sorry. Sirius Black never apologized. It was just an understood law of reality and normalcy. But he had done it. And then James had screamed horrible and hurtful things at him.

After Sirius had run out of the Great Hall, Lily had slapped James for the first time. Normally she just sent a hex or two his way, as was normal for magical children to do. But that time she had physically hit him.

Of course, things had only tumbled downhill. While Remus and Peter had relaxed in their irritation at Sirius, James had only become angrier, which resulted in a decline in Sirius's physical health. Sirius needed James for proper functioning. Lily had often been concerned about Sirius's home life. She wasn't sure if his parents had ever physically harmed him, but she had known that they often dished out verbal and mental abuse to him. But James was an anchor for Sirius, and he had kept Sirius sane. Without him, Sirius had been something like a zombie.

One day, during Potions, James had suddenly begun yelling at Sirius, and he had basically told Sirius he wished he were dead. Sirius had been beyond devastated. Lily had tried to kill James—or at least physically maim him—but Professor Slughorn and Remus had dragged her off him. After the incident, no one could find Sirius for days. It had actually been Lily who had found him. She had been combing the castle desperately in her spare time and even during some classes. Lily could honestly say that finding Sirius was one of the top three most horrifying moments of her life.

Lily had thought he was dead. He had obviously not eaten or drank anything for days, and there had been dried blood all over his arms. He had been rushed to St. Mungo's, and Lily hadn't stopped crying for over a day.

James had been one of the first told about what had happened. He had reacted horribly, screaming and cursing at himself and placing full blame on his shoulders. He had begged and pleaded with Dumbledore to allow him to go to St. Mungo's and be with Sirius. Almost reluctantly, Dumbledore had agreed and used his influence to allow James to stay in Sirius's hospital room. Lily, Remus, and Peter had also been allowed a few hours of visiting, but James had refused to leave the room.

The others hadn't been in the room when Sirius had first woken up, but when they did finally see Sirius again, he and James were on speaking terms. For the rest of the year, James hadn't let Sirius out of his sight. He spent almost all his time doing his best to make up for everything that had happened. Sirius had gone home with James that summer with all intentions of never going back to the Black manor.

Lily had been too frightened of what had happened and too relived that Sirius had his anchor back to even begin to disapprove of the way Sirius readily accepted James's renewed friendship. She had never again questioned the seriousness of the two boys' connection with each other. And she never held it against James that he was never angry with Sirius.

The last time James had been angry with him, it had nearly killed Sirius.


	20. Peter's Betrayal

**Chapter 20**

Peter Pettigrew wrung his hands together nervously. He paced before the fireplace in his small flat, muttering wildly under his breath to no one. It had been over three years since Sirius Black, his former friend, had first come to him with his proposition of joining the Death Eaters. For over a year after Sirius had spoken to him, Peter had hardly left either James or Remus's sides. Sirius would never just appear before either of them and ask Peter if he'd made a decision. Peter wouldn't have to worry about it too much if he stuck close to James and Remus.

Peter had been too frightened to be alone for that year. He was still too scared to join the Death Eaters, but he had to admit that Sirius had made some very good points. Voldemort hated James and Lily. He hated Dumbledore. He probably hated Remus too. So did the rest of the Death Eaters. No one would ever stand up for them if—God forbid—Voldemort did manage to take over. Peter shuddered to think that Voldemort would ever over turn the Ministry and kill Dumbledore. If Dumbledore was dead, Peter didn't think they stood a chance, not with Harry and Sirius on the Dark side.

Peter ran a hand over the large bald patch on his head. He hardly had a hair left on his head, and he was only thirty-one years old. The war was so stressful. Peter was astonished daily that he didn't lose all grasp of sanity, and he was hardly a leading figure. How James and Dumbledore kept such cool heads was far beyond Peter.

But level heads could not save them, not if what Sirius said was true, not if the Dark Lord did prevail. Peter shuddered to think that his dear friends would be harmed, and they certainly would be if Voldemort had his way. But Peter didn't know what he could do. He wasn't so brave as James and Remus and Sirius. That was probably why his Animagus form was a rat. Rats were not brave and noble creatures. Rats were sneaky. But Peter didn't feel very sneaky either. If he was, then he could have been a spy or something.

The Reign of Terror had been going on for nearly twenty years now, and Voldemort had been gaining power for longer. Peter wondered if it could ever end. He prayed it would, and sometimes in desperate, depressed nights, he almost wished Voldemort would win, just so that it would all be over. He quickly came to his senses afterwards, but still…

Could Peter save his friends if he joined the Death Eaters? He knew that he would remain truly loyal to Dumbledore and his friends, but if he pretended to offer his services to the Dark Lord, would that terrible man spare his friends, as Sirius said he would? Peter remembered how Sirius had been ordered to kill Harry so many years ago, but instead turned around and raised him. Lily and James were certain that was because the real Sirius was still buried inside the General. If Peter joined the Death Eaters and spoke for the Potters, would Sirius stand beside him? After all, Sirius had not killed them yet, although he often said how much he desired to.

Peter collapsed into an armchair and buried his face in his hands. It was all so confusing!

Sirius Black sneered as he walked through the halls of the dirty Muggle flat complex. The place was disgusting and reeked of Muggle. There was hardly a drop of magic to be found in the entire building. Sirius would have sooner asked the Dark Lord over tea to perform the Cruciatus Curse on him than be seen here. But Pettigrew lived here. And Pettigrew was a key to bringing the Potters right into his grasp.

Sirius drew his wand and grinned as he came upon the door to Pettigrew's flat. With a burst of magic the door flung open. Sirius frowned. The man had hardly a ward upon the place. Sirius's simple spell had broken through them very easily. One would have thought he could have at least found someone to place stronger wards. From the room, there was a startled scream, and Sirius watched with amusement as Pettigrew flipped right out of the chair he had been sitting in. Pettigrew scrambled to his feet, fumbled for his wand, and looked to see who had intruded. His beady eyes widened considerably at the sight of the most powerful Death Eater in the Dark Lord's army and he stuttered, "S—Sir—Sirius!"

Sirius walked inside and was careful not to touch anything. Who knows where it had been? "Hello, Peter," he said casually. The other man began to stutter unintelligently. Sirius held back a sigh. As much as he hated him, Sirius knew that Potter was intelligent, so why in the name of all things holy had he befriended such a moron? "Be silent," Sirius snapped, certainly not in the mood to listen to the blubbering. Pettigrew instantly obeyed.

"Now," Sirius said, his voice becoming much more conversational again, "it has been some time since we last met, hasn't it, Peter?" Pettigrew wrung his hands and nodded nervously. "Some time, indeed," Sirius continued. "I should think that there has been ample time for you to consider the offer I presented to you. What do you say?"

Pettigrew muttered under his breath for a few seconds. When he finally spoke at a volume Sirius could hear, he was shaking all over. "I—I don't w-want to," he mumbled.

Sirius's face darkened. "The Dark Lord does not like to be refused," he growled. Pettigrew suddenly burst into hysterical tears. Sirius was taken aback. Did this man not have an ounce of pride in his entire rodent-like body? "What is wrong with you," Sirius asked incredulously. "Stop that at once!"

This time Pettigrew did not obey. He continued to carry on and after some minutes finally sobbed out, "I don't want to! But he'll kill Lily and James!"

Sirius then grinned malevolently. "Yes," he said. "The Dark Lord will kill them. Would you just sit back and let that happen, Peter? This is the one chance you will have to save them. The Dark Lord will not be refused and then allow you to later change your mind."

"I don't want to kill anyone," Peter cried, for that was what Death Eaters did. They shot the Killing Curse, whereas Peter shot Stunning Spells. Despite the long years of the war, Peter had only been in a few battles. Peter was not a fighter. He had lived through those battles only on luck and the protection from his friends.

Sirius scoffed. "You are in a war," he said harshly. "Killing is necessary, and if the Dark Lord demands it, you will obey." Pettigrew shied back from him. Sirius took a step forward, towering over the trembling man. "What will it be, Pettigrew?"

Pettigrew blinked large, wet eyes at him, and Sirius smiled when he finally opened his mouth to speak.

* * *

James Potter cursed loudly. He jumped up from where the force of a curse had thrown him into a wall. "Lily!" he cried. "Lily! Olivia!"

From a few feet to his left, the sound of his wife's voice called out, "Over here, James! I've got her." James scrambled over a large chunk of a former shop and grabbed his wife and daughter in a fierce hug. Olivia was crying loudly, and she had a large cut on her arm.

"Get out of here," James commanded. "Get her somewhere safe and stay there." Lily almost looked ready to protest, to say that she would come back as soon as Olivia was in a safe place, but one look at the fear in the young girl's eyes silenced her. Lily quickly kissed her husband before scooping Olivia into her arms and running.

James turned around to the sound of booming, barking laughter. Poised overhead on his broom, was Sirius Black. Sirius raised his wand over his head and brought it down with a great swooping motion. A wave of magic came soaring at James. He jumped away just in time. The cottage formerly behind him crumbled to the ground. The sight of the destruction and knowledge of the deaths of the family inside only gave Sirius more pleasure. "Sirius!" James yelled out.

Sirius floated a few meters from the ground, posed in the familiar Beater positioning. "Why, hello, Potter," he called back. "It has been far too long since we last met. Have you missed me?" He chuckled as he shot another curse towards the Gryffindor. James deflected it with a shield. "Where have your mudblood wench and half-blood child got to? I'd rather hoped to meet the little girl."

With a growl, James shot his own curse at Sirius. Sirius had already taken one of his children; he wouldn't be getting his daughter. Of course, the other man easily dodged. He flipped in the air, shooting a volley of jinxes at James as he came back around. "Leave my daughter alone, Sirius," James yelled. "You already have my son!"

All of the mocking and joking Sirius usually brought to their duels vanished. His face became hard and cold as a stone. He sat frozen on his broom. Then, his face contorted in fury and he screamed, "_Reducto!_" The curse hit an Auror behind James. The man didn't have a chance to scream before his body exploded. Sirius dropped to the ground. "You do not have a son," he growled low in his throat, his tight grip on his broomstick turning his knuckles white. "And never again insinuate that my son has any connection to you ever again."

James stared back, wondering if he was stupid enough to press Sirius's buttons any further. After all, when Sirius had been on the Light side, it had been frightening enough to see him this mad. God only knows what he would do now without any of those old morals.

The two men stood amidst the battlefield that was formerly Hogsmeade. Curses flew around them as others dueled, but no one else dared to hit Sirius or James. It was understood throughout both sides that they fought each other. The others on the Light side knew the Potters would go ballistic if Sirius was felled, and the Death Eaters feared the wrath of the General if someone else took away his most desired kill.

Simultaneously, they raised their wands and lowered into fighting stances. James frowned. Sirius's stance had changed. It wasn't the one he used years ago when he had been an Auror. Bellatrix had forced him to change it while retraining him.

Sirius smirked and the duel began. James ran about casting Defense spell after Defense spell. He hated his duels with Sirius. Not only was he trying to avoid hurting his best friend, but his manner of fighting was pathetic. It felt cowardly, but he did not fire attacks at Sirius. He couldn't take the chance that something would go wrong and Sirius would be badly injured. James would not be the thing that killed his best friend. He refused to be.

James jumped behind a blown away section of a wall. He pressed his back against it, ignoring Sirius's taunts on the other side and firing curses at any other Death Eaters that came into his line of vision. As he did with all his duels with Sirius, James contemplated a way to either escape or capture his friend. Of course, it was easier said than done. Capturing Sirius was next to impossible. Whether he knew it or not, he had Auror schooling behind his Death Eater training, and he was a natural fighter. He would know better than to leave any side open for potential detainment.

There was also the problem that Sirius was a bit angrier than he normally was with James right now. Sirius usually toyed with James. James knew it. Sirius had long ago figured out that James would not fire a curse at him that could cause potential harm. But even without offensive spells, James still proved a formidable opponent to Sirius. James was sure it was the only reason he was still alive. Sirius saw him as one of the few people with whom he could have a decent duel. For how ever much he hated the Potters, Sirius considered them worthy. But how would it be when Sirius finally grew tired of playing or someone pushed his explosive temper too far? James prayed he could bring Sirius back before then.

Sirius's current irritability with James would prove difficult to overcome. He would certainly be less inclined to let James escape today after that comment about Harry. James cursed himself. It had been stupid to say. He and Lily had both agreed that it was best not to speak of Harry's true parentage to Sirius, or to any one, for that matter. Snape had told them that Sirius was fiercely attached to Harry, much more so than he had been all those years ago when Harry was still an infant. He loved the boy and had killed the wife of a fellow Death Eater for speaking of Harry's origins. And Harry's continued existence relied heavily on that fact that he remain in the dark about those origins. Sirius didn't allow anything that would compromise his adopted son.

Although it seemed like a small eternity, James probably only spent about five minutes darting between large bits of rubble and firing only a Stun Spell at Sirius in his most aggressive moment before a team of Aurors arrived. Sirius didn't look pleased at all when he signaled a retreat ten minutes later. James Stunned a retreating Death Eater before finally lowering his wand. He emerged from behind the fallen door of the Three Broomsticks and wiped his sweat and dirt covered forehead. An Auror and fellow Order member, Kingsley Shacklebolt, appeared at James's side and said, "I'll take care of this for you." James nodded and smiled gratefully at him.

James took off for the path back to Hogwarts. That was surely where Lily would have taken Olivia. They would be safe there. He sprinted to Dumbledore's office and entered to find not Lily but Peter sitting with Olivia. "Wormtail," James asked in surprise.

At the sound of his voice, both looked up. "P-prongs," Peter stammered as Olivia slipped from his lap and yelled, "Daddy!" She leapt into her father's arms, and James hugged her tightly. Peter walked up to them visibly shaking. "Thank God you're all right," he said.

"Where's Lily, Peter," James asked.

"I ran into her as she was coming back here with Olivia," Peter explained, rubbing his hands together in his usual nervous manner. "She gave her to me and ran back into Hogsmeade."

James cursed loudly, which caused Olivia to scold him. James offered her a weak smile before biting down on his bottom lip. He didn't know what he'd do if something had happened to Lily, but he did know that if she was all right, he'd kill her. James wasn't left to worry for long. It was hardly five minutes before the office door opened to reveal Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Lily. James ran forward and shoved Olivia into Dumbledore's arms before enveloping Lily in a fierce hug. "Do you know what don't come back means," he muttered into her bright hair.

Lily wrapped her arms around James's waist and laughed. "Since when have I ever listened to you," she asked. James pulled back and kissed her. Olivia made a gagging noise before she turned her attention to her surrogate grandfather to complain about the cut on her arm. McGonagall took her hand and led her down to the hospital wing, giving Lily and James time to speak with the headmaster. "Well," Lily said as soon as the door clicked shut, "we certainly had no warning of that attack." James growled low in his throat. Lily elbowed him in the ribs. She had certainly not said that to give James an opening to insult Severus.

Dumbledore had seated himself behind his great desk. "Yes," he simply said, stroking his beard. "We usually hear of attacks if Sirius is orchestrating them." Peter cracked his knuckles.

"What do you think their purpose was," James asked. "They didn't seem to have a specific target. I mean, it's usually Sirius who takes care of that sort of thing, but he was fighting me the whole time." He ran a hand through his still hopelessly messy hair. A good deal of dust flew up into the air.

"You suppose it was just for random destruction purposes," Lily asked.

"But Sirius didn't seem too surprised to see us," James said. "I mean, he should have been, shouldn't he? We've been underground more often than not for ages. I haven't dueled with him for at least three years."

Peter's knees began to knock together. Lily noticed and said, "Peter, you're positively shaking." She walked over and directed him to a chair. "Sit down for a few minutes." Peter blinked at her as she rubbed his back in a motherly fashion. Then, quite suddenly, he burst into tears.

Lily jumped back. "Oh," she exclaimed before quickly recovering. "Peter, what is it? What's wrong?" Peter could not answer around his sobbing. Lily looked up at James with a look as if to ask 'What did I do?' James shrugged and walked over, as did Dumbledore.

"Wormtail," James asked in concern, "what's gotten into you, mate?"

"Oh God," Peter cried. "This is all my fault!"

"Peter, how could the Death Eaters attacking possibly be your fault," Lily asked shaking her head. "You took Olivia up here just like I asked you. You haven't done anything wrong."

"I did. I did. I did," Peter raced through his words. He gripped tightly at the side of his head.

Lily and James exchanged confused looks, but Dumbledore leaned down to Peter's eye level and said in a soft but firm voice, "Peter." Peter bit his bottom lip to hold back any more sobs. He blinked his watery eyes at his former headmaster. "Peter," Dumbledore asked again, "what did you do?"

Peter tore his gaze away from Dumbledore and looked at James with sorrowful eyes. He drew in a deep breath to attempt to compose himself. "James," he began, "I—I have to confess something."


	21. Werewolves

**Chapter 21**

James sat rigidly on one of the chairs in Dumbledore's office. He didn't quite know what to do. The room was deathly quiet. Lily was standing over him, and Dumbledore was pacing beside his desk. Fawkes let out a shrill cry and rustled his flaming feathers as he repositioned himself on his perch. Dumbledore held his wand to his forehead and withdrew the long silver strand of a memory. He placed it into the Pensieve, where it swirled and mixed with the aging headmaster's other numerous recollections.

Sitting on the other end of the office was Peter Pettigrew, who was the cause of all this awkward and intense silence. Lily and James were both at a loss of what to do, what to think. Just minutes ago, an intense battle had ripped apart the streets of Hogsmeade. Leading the attacks, of course, was Sirius Black. James had just thought it cursed luck. He and his family did not often venture out into the public eye, spending nearly all their time in either Hogwarts or their own home. In fact, Olivia had only been out three times in her entire life. What luck that the day the small family went out they were attacked.

But it hadn't been a coincidence. They had been ratted out. Literally ratted out. James shifted his gaze over to Peter. Peter had been approached a few years ago by Sirius to join the Death Eaters. He hadn't immediately accepted (and by looking at his arm, one could see he still hadn't accepted. Spy or no, no servant of the Dark Lord was not branded). Sirius had left Peter alone for some time, but a few weeks ago, he had returned with the offer. While Peter had not completely caved, he had told Sirius that the Potters would be taking their daughter out to Hogsmeade for her birthday. And so Sirius had attacked.

James was very certain that he, Lily, and Harry had not been killed by Sirius because the Sirius they knew was still trapped inside the General. But Sirius had never known Olivia. There would be nothing to stop him from killing her. So, of course, James had had Lily run for safety with her. And Lily, not able to leave a fight behind, had given Olivia to Peter to take into the castle. It was as natural as to put her straight into Dumbledore's hands.

James shuddered. Peter had had Olivia. Ten minutes ago, that would have never bothered him. But now, he was terrified. Peter had given information to Sirius. He had had the opportunity to hand over the Potters' remaining child too. He hadn't, but had he considered it?

Peter had told them what Sirius said, about how if Peter were to become a Death Eater he might be able to speak for Lily and James to the Dark Lord. Sirius had demanded some kind of information as proof of loyalty. Peter had told him about Olivia's birthday outing. Sirius, of course, had taken advantage of the information.

Peter had betrayed them. He had offered them up to Sirius and the Death Eaters. It stung. James had never personally known someone who had offered information up to the Death Eaters. Of course, James did not count Sirius. Sirius had been stolen. But Peter had gone and spoken of his own free will. He hadn't been tortured. He hadn't been under the influence of a spell or potion.

But he had been terrified.

Peter had never been the bravest of people, and he had certainly been the least brave of the Marauders. James had often wondered how Peter ever managed to be placed in Gryffindor. In fact, James still thought Peter was more of a Hufflepuff, the leftover. It was horrible to say. James remembered how often he and Sirius had snickered about it.

Peter had told his whole story to the three, and Dumbledore had been able to find no lies in Peter's eyes. But for safety, he had called for Snape and a vial of Vertaserum. And under the affects of the potion, Peter had produced the same tale.

And thus was the whole problem. Peter had betrayed them, but he hadn't wanted to. He had been bullied, but he still caved in. Because he had offered information once, he was capable of doing it again. Sirius knew that he would be able to use Peter, so he would certainly try again and again. Would Peter be able to resist him, especially if Sirius resorted to spells?

James looked over at Peter. He looked completely miserable. James drew in a deep breath. He knew that had to be done here. It certainly wasn't an easy thing. He looked over his shoulder at Lily. She was regarding Peter thoughtfully. Sensing the gaze of her husband, Lily turned her bright orbs to James. With a steely glance, she nodded. James stood and took her hand. Together they walked up to Peter.

Peter whimpered at their approach, but he did not look up at them. "Peter," James said. Peter was visibly holding back a wave of sobs. James knelt down to the other man's eye level. "Peter, look at me," James said. Peter muttered something incoherent. "Didn't catch that."

"I—I d-don't deser-serve to," Peter stammered.

Lily laughed. "Don't be silly, Peter," she said.

"Quite right, Wormtail," James said, a smile forming on his own face. "Since when weren't you deserving of looking at my glorious face?"

"Not now, James," Lily said with a slightly exasperated tone.

Peter finally looked up at his old friends, an expression of extreme confusion on his face. "I don't understand," he said.

"Peter," James said, "You made a mistake. You did something wrong, that's true, but remember you're human. We all make mistakes. Some are worse than others. But if you're truly sorry for what you've done, then who are we to punish you?"

"You could have done so much worse, Pete," Lily said softly. "I gave Olivia to you, and you brought her here safely. I think you know what it would have done to us to have another child taken."

Peter shuddered. "I didn't—I couldn't—she's still so little."

Lily nodded and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know. And you kept her safe for us. We owe you quite a bit for that." James nodded.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Peter tentatively asked, "So, are you not mad at me?"

"Well," James said thoughtfully, "not mad, I suppose. A bit disappointed, perhaps. But I can see where you came from, wanting to keep people close to you safe. There are some mad extremes I'd go to to keep the people I love safe, so I can't really be mad at you. It'd be a bit hypocritical of me, you see."

"I don't deserve this," Peter said, lowering his eyes.

James grasped his friend's shoulders and shook him a bit. "Listen here, Wormtail," he said forcefully. "Stop saying you don't deserve things. No one here is any better than you. Lily and I forgive you, and that's all there is to it. What's done is done, and we shouldn't have to talk about this again."

"But how can you forgive me so easily," Peter asked.

James's lips drew into a fine line. He could feel Lily behind him. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I've just got to forgive you, Wormtail," James said stiffly. "I can't give up on my friends."

Peter sucked in a sharp breath. He opened his mouth to say something, but he decided against it and opted to nod his head instead. Lily wrapped her arms around James's shoulders. "Are you okay now, Peter," she asked.

Peter nodded. He drew his shoulders up a little straighter and said, "I won't let him pressure me again, and I promise I'll try really hard to make him remember."

James smiled at Peter. That was probably the bravest he'd ever looked.

* * *

Sirius Black frowned at the dingy little shack that stood some yards away from him. It disgusted him to think that someone actually lived in it, but then again, that someone was just a filthy half-breed. Sirius crossed his arms as he stared through the thick trees, his frown deepening on his face. The waxing moon shown down on the scene, making it appear strangely beautiful. In fact, Sirius might have felt at peace here were it not for that ugly shack.

There was a rustle of movement beside him followed by a few desperate growls. Sirius arched a brow and turned a condescending glance to his companion. "Is that completely necessary," he asked. The other turned to look at him, amber eyes burning in the ever-increasing moonlight. His white fangs glistened as he smirked. Sirius sneered and turned his attention back to the shack. "Animal," he muttered.

Greyback laughed almost too loudly. Sirius sent him a fierce glare to demand silence. "Right," Greyback growled. Sirius knew the werewolf was still rather angry that a human other than Voldemort had control over him, but he certainly knew that Sirius Black was not someone to trifle with, and disobeying his orders would not bode well. "So why are we just sitting here, General," he asked.

"We are waiting," Sirius said dispassionately.

"For what? He's there. He's alone," Greyback insisted. "Now would be the time to attack."

"This is not an attack," Sirius said. "The Dark Lord has asked that we turn him and integrate him into your pack. The Potters are too cowardly to come out on their own. We must force them out by ensnaring their friends. That's why I offered Pettigrew a place among the Death Eaters."

"It's stupid," Greyback muttered. "I could just go in there and physically force him into the pack. Too bad biting him wouldn't do anymore than add to physical torture." Greyback smiled nastily.

Sirius scoffed, "Save your animalistic lust for some other time when I'm not here."

"Well, it wouldn't do anything to him other than make him bleed," Greyback maintained. "I already bit him once." The animal gleam was back in his eyes. Sirius turned away. Perhaps if he stopped responding, the werewolf would simply shut his trap.

When Sirius finally deemed the time right, he lifted his wand and sent a powerful surge of magic towards the shack. The ground shook considerably as wards collapsed. Greyback flew from the brush that was partly concealing the two from view. With the swift and fluid motions that his cruse gave him, he had reached the door of the shack in nearly the blink of an eye. He physically wrenched it from the hinges and tore into the house with an inhuman howl.

Sirius followed more calmly, watching flashes of light illuminate the windows. Greayback was certainly more than enough to keep the smaller werewolf busy for a few moments. When Sirius stepped through the door, Greyback had successfully pinned the other man to the ground. Blood was pouring from his nose and lip. Greyback had a long, ugly gash that traveled down the side of his face. Sirius wondered if the other had done that with a spell or by slashing out. Considering the number of bruises already forming on both, it looked as though Greyback had quickly ridded the other of his wand. "Hello, Remus," Sirius said casually.

Remus Lupin glared hatefully up at Sirius through a swollen eye. He struggled momentarily, but Greyback's superior weight kept him efficiently pinned. "That seems rather pointless," Sirius mentioned. Lupin growled, and Sirius suspected that the werewolf would have loved to bite him.

"What do you want," Lupin asked nastily.

Lazily, Sirius inspected his nails. "Come now, Remus, surely you are smarter than that. Weren't you a prefect in school?" Lupin narrowed his amber eyes. "I have sent messengers before, werewolf," Sirius continued. "The Dark Lord desires that you join our forces. It is where you belong, after all, being a Dark creature." Sirius looked critically at Lupin's patched robes. "You, of course, realize that there is no place for a werewolf in the Light side. They all look down on you and shun you. You can hardly make the means to survive. Why stay there?"

"Because that's where my friends are," Lupin retorted. "And because I don't believe in what you say or what Voldemort—"

Sirius frowned, and Greyback twisted Lupin's arm further around his back. The smaller werewolf hissed in pain. "Do not say his name," Sirius said darkly. Again, Lupin merely glared up at the General. "Lupin," Sirius continued, "the Dark Lord grows impatient. He demands promptness and results. It is time for you to see that you belong with him."

"I don't, and I won't abandon my friends," Lupin said. "I won't become what you have."

Sirius arched a brow. "And what would you say I have become?"

"You're a traitor," Lupin snarled. "You were one of us, one of our best friends. You had us believing that you hated the Dark. Lily and James are wrong. Even if Voldemort took your memories, your real self should still be there. But you're a monster. You're more of a monster than I am on the full moon."

Sirius regarded the other man passively, almost unsure of how to act. He wanted to roll his eyes at the continued talk of him having been a blood-traitor. He wanted to snap at Lupin for comparing him to a half-breed. He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the comment.

Instead, he frowned, his cold grey eyes narrowing slightly. There was an oddly tight feeling in his chest. Sirius didn't know how to react to it. He had been endlessly called a monster before, that Skeeter woman from the_ Prophet_ especially loved the word. Before, it had made him smile. So why did it bring about such a different reaction just because of this werewolf?

Sirius shrugged it off. He certainly wouldn't change a thing about himself because of Lupin. Lupin was inconsequential to Sirius. Nothing Lupin said mattered to him. There were very few people on the planet whose opinions mattered to Sirius. This werewolf certainly was not one of them.

Sirius squared his shoulders and asked, "Do you deny the Dark Lord, Lupin?"

"A thousand times over," Lupin snarled.

Sirius arched a brow. He lifted his gaze to Greyback. The large man nodded and stood, releasing Lupin. The smaller werewolf slowly pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Sirius lifted his wand, and Lupin's eyes widened. Sirius momentarily wondered what spell Lupin expected. He pondered which would be better. He opted with Bella's favorite.

"_Crucio_," he said, and the spell hit Lupin with a flash of blood red light. He fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Sirius kept his eyes locked of Lupin's withering form, not desiring to watch the twisted pleasure in Greyback's yellow, animalistic eyes.

It was hardly a minute before the flames of Lupin's fireplace roared to life, glowing green. Then from the flames burst the Potters, Dumbledore, and a few other Order members. Sirius quickly ended the spell, turning to the new arrivals in fury. Greyback howled, ready to attack. Sirius scanned the room. Lily Potter was kneeling beside Lupin, one hand on his heaving back, the other holding her wand at the ready. The others were standing around them, wands locked on the Death Eaters.

The situation did not bode well. His capture would be imminent if he remained. Sirius stood tall. He smiled charmingly. "Until next time, ladies and gentlemen," he said with a mocking bow. He Apparated away, leaving Greyback to follow.


	22. What's In A Name?

**Chapter 22**

The Great Hall was decorated extensively with green Slytherin banners. As it had been for the past six years, Slytherin had won the House Cup. Gryffindor had come in at a close second. Harry sat at his place at the Slytherin table between Draco and Blaise Zabini. The headmaster was congratulating the Slytherins on their achievement, and the students from the other Houses were sulking at their tables. The Weasley twins were glaring at their House rivals with particularly nasty faces.

Harry sent Ron Weasley, whose glare's intensity equaled that of his brothers', a smug smirk. Weasley narrowed his eyes and turned his attention towards Longbottom and Hermione. Longbottom responded to Weasley's comment, but Hermione kept her dark eyes locked onto Harry. Harry dropped his smirk and stared back with the most emotionless face he could pull off. The mudblood was the first to turn away.

"I'm just ready to return to the manor," Draco's voice cut into Harry's mind. Harry turned to face his cousin. On Draco's other side, Pansy Parkinson smiled brazenly.

"Will I be able to visit your manor, Draco," she asked leaning towards him.

Draco leaned away from her, his nose crinkled. "How should I know," he asked. He shot confused eyes back to his cousin. Harry shrugged, looking just as confused. Pansy stared at both boys with a drawn expression and looked to Daphne Greengrass. Both girls rolled their eyes. Again Harry and Draco exchanged looks. Harry could not say that he understood girls well. Girls like Pansy and Daphne were so giggly and unlike Hermione. Hermione was the only girl that Harry could really tolerate. Of course, Harry couldn't pretend that he had really been around girls much before meeting Hermione. Perhaps he was just partial.

He chanced a glance at her; she was staring down at her plate, hardly attempting to smile as her Gryffindor friends conversed with her. Harry sneered. She should have been placed in Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw was far more acceptable than Gryffindor. She didn't even fit the Gryffindor profile.

The train ride home was uneventful. Harry refused to leave the compartment to harass the Gryffindors, which brought down Draco's mood, resulting in him staying too. Without a Black or Malfoy to back them, both Crabbe and Goyle were forced to remain as well. Pansy and Daphne were too busy giggling over some article in _Witch Weekly_ to pay the boys much attention.

Harry was quite impatient with the length of the train ride. They were wizards, after all. Why couldn't the trip be made more quickly? He wanted to return to his manor. He wanted to see his father and baby sister. He hoped desperately that Adrienne was visiting her family in France. Hogwarts had certainly been an experience, but he wanted to return to normalcy, where he wasn't surrounded day and night by mudbloods and blood-traitors.

Narcissa was at the train station waiting for Draco and Harry. The boys greeted her, and they set off for Black Manor. At the front door, the boys dropped off their trucks and cloaks for the House Elves to take care of. Narcissa led them into the parlor, where Lucius was waiting with Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Walburga. Only after he had greeted each of his relatives properly did Harry look around for his father. "He went to collect Atria," Harry's grandmother provided.

A few minutes later, Sirius walked into the parlor, Atria balanced on his hip. The toddler looked to have just awoken from a nap. A pacifier was in her mouth, and she had buried her head into her father's neck. "Look who's back," Sirius said to her.

Atria lifted her head and locked eyes with her brother. She spit out the pacifier and cried, "Hawwy!"

Harry froze for a few seconds before grinning. She had finally learned his name, granted it was a poor rendition. He was about to step forward to take her from his father when the older man held up a hand. He lowered Atria to the floor, and the little girl wobbled towards her brother. Harry collected her when she reached his legs. "Well, you learned all sorts of new tricks while I was away," he said. The baby gurgled.

Draco and Harry updated the family on all the goings on at Hogwarts that had not been told through letters. Sirius was actually rather proud that Harry had hardly managed to get in trouble once. When Narcissa had departed with the boys for the station in September, Sirius was sure that he would be receiving numerous Howlers and notices of detentions from his Head of House.

It wasn't long before Walburga was too tired to remain downstairs and was escorted up by Regulus. Sirius frowned after his brother and mother, something Harry immediately noticed. "Is Grandmother all right," he asked in a low tone as Draco recounted a story to the others.

Sirius knew better than to lie to his son. Besides, Harry was nearly twelve. He was certainly getting old enough to know family matters such as these. "No, Harry," Sirius said. "Your grandmother is sick, and the potions are not helping her."

Harry's eyes widened. "When did she get so sick, Father?"

Sirius resituated Atria on his lap. He watched as she played with his hands. "Years ago," he said. "Before you were born."

"But I've never known her to be so ill," Harry said.

"I think your birth gave her joy," Sirius said. "Women like to have babies to dote over. Regulus and I were grown, so she had no more children. With your mother dead, she helped take on the responsibility of raising you. I think that gave her something to keep her mind and body off her illness." Harry nodded and turned his gaze to the staircase where his grandmother and uncle had disappeared.

"It would be best not to dwell on it, Harry," Sirius said after a few minutes. Harry nodded and turned the topic of conversation to something more cheerful.

Much later that night, Harry lay in his bed. He had had a long day what with packing, traveling home, and spending an entire evening talking. He was quite tired, but something was keeping him from falling asleep. He rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his fluffed pillows. He tried closing his eyes and concentrating on breathing evenly. It wasn't working. Perhaps there was something off in the room. Harry looked around. Everything was in its proper place, and his bed was very comfortable. It was not too bright or too dark, and there was no excess noise. It was perfect sleeping conditions.

Harry concluded that it was all in his mind. There must be something that he hadn't done or that was pressing that he hadn't attended to. But what was it? He had brought back all of his things from Hogwarts. He had passed all his exams with flying colors. He had acted very proper all through the evening with the family. Everything was fine, so what was keeping him awake?

The force with which the problem hit Harry was enough to nearly make him jerk off the bed. He glared at his window for a few minutes before deciding that it couldn't be put off. If he put it off, the problem would only escalade. Harry held in a snort but slammed his fist on his pillow before rolling out of bed. He slipped on a pair of pants and his boots. While fumbling to put his shirt on properly, Harry headed towards his shelf. Picking up his broom, Harry smiled. It had been a long time since he had last flown. He walked to the window and pulled it open. He climbed up on the sill and jumped. Mounting properly on the broom, Harry flew off over London.

Harry hovered beside the Muggle's window. He peeked through the curtains. Hermione was in there, probably sleeping. He tapped lightly on the glass. She rolled over in her bed. He tapped again a bit louder. This time she blinked and lifted herself up on her elbows. She slipped from the bed and stumbled to the window. She caught sight of Harry and smiled. She opened her windows. Harry was about to fly in when she suddenly stopped smiling. Hermione regarded Harry for another second before shutting her windows with a firm snap.

Harry blinked in surprise as she walked back over to her bed. Harry knocked on the glass louder than he would have dared before. Hermione soundly ignored him. Harry studied the window. It only opened from the inside. There was only one way he could get inside without her opening it for him. "I'll fly right through the glass if you don't open it, Muggle," Harry threatened loud enough to travel through the glass.

Hermione merely crossed her arms. "I am not in the mood for games, girl," Harry said impatiently. "Let me in." Hermione pursed her lips and glared at him through her mirror, her eyes flashing.

"Open the window, Hermione."

Hermione spun around, her jaw hanging loosely. Harry stared back. She walked back over to the window and lifted the latch to open it. Harry flew into the room and landed behind her. Hermione turned to face him, her eyes wide and jaw still slack. "About time, Muggle," Harry said.

Hermione ignored him. "You said it," she muttered.

"Said what," Harry asked, knowing exactly what she meant.

"My name," Hermione whispered. "You've never said my name before." And then she leapt across the room and hugged him. Harry stiffened. No one outside of his family had ever hugged him before, and even that had been years ago. At nearly twelve years old, he was considered far too old for such forms of affection. But there Hermione stood, clinging to his neck and getting her bushy hair all in his face. And for some reason Harry couldn't comprehend, he moved his arms up to encircle her back.

For quite a few minutes, neither moved nor spoke. Then Hermione asked with a slight sniffle, "Why wouldn't you talk to me?"

"I couldn't," Harry said simply.

"Yes, you could," Hermione said drawing back. She put her hands on her hips. "You don't have to be mean and nasty like the rest of them all the time. You said some horrible things to Ron and Neville."

"They are blood-traitors," Harry defended himself. "You know that. I've told you all about them."

"But I like them," Hermione said. "They're my friends at Hogwarts, since you certainly weren't."

Harry resisted the urge to wince at her words. "I told you, I couldn't act as though I knew you."

"But you could certainly have pretended to be getting to know me. We could have pretended to have never met before and been new friends there," Hermione insisted.

Harry shook his head. "That's not how it works. Things aren't so simple in the wizarding world. We would have both been in more trouble than you can imagine if we were friendly. If word of it got back to my father, I don't know what he would do to me. He'd probably kill you and your family."

"He'd kill us," Hermione nearly shrieked. Harry nodded. "Why would he do that?"

Harry frowned. "That is simply the way of things," he said.

"It makes no sense," Hermione insisted. "He would kill me and my family just because we're Muggles and I talked to you?"

Harry nodded. "My father has killed Muggles before. It is the Dark Lord's will. No one dares disobey him." Hermione nodded. She had seen how frightened the children who grew up in magical homes were of even speaking his name. She couldn't imagine anyone actually telling him no. "You didn't grow up in this war. You didn't grow up in any war. I can't expect that you would possibly understand this." Hermione stared at him with wide eyes.

"My father is the most wanted man in wizarding England, aside from the Dark Lord. Every time he ventures from the manor, he runs the risk of capture or death. When he leaves, I never know if I'm going to see him alive again. The same can hold true for my uncles and Aunt Bellatrix. My family is right in the middle of this war. We are on the side that is fighting for the cleansing of the wizarding world. You are what my family wants to exterminate. If you can stay off their radar, there is always the chance that you can get away," Harry said with a tight voice.

Harry frowned down at her. She couldn't understand this. It wasn't possible. She had lived in this happy house with her both her dentist parents hardly caring at all about the outside world. She didn't have to worry about death. She didn't have to worry about destruction. She didn't have to worry about anything more than what she got on her next test.

Harry had never been protected from the knowledge of the danger of the things his father did in service of the Dark Lord. Sirius had refused to shelter Harry like that. Every time Sirius came through the fireplace bleeding, limping, or unconscious, Harry knew the gist of what had happened.

But she was still sheltered and innocent. The worst she had seen was a bit of name-calling.

Hermione looked back up at him and smiled. She knew he didn't like the affectionate contact, but she stepped forward and hugged him again. She was pleasantly surprised when Harry immediately wrapped his arms around her.

"You never called me a mudblood," Hermione muttered into his shirt. Harry didn't answer. "Why not? Your cousin and all the other Slytherins did."

Harry drew in a breath, unsure of how to answer her. "Harry?"

"They might call you a mudblood," Harry said, "but first you were my Muggle."

Hermione smiled and squeezed her arms tighter. "It's late," Hermione said.

"I should be going, then," Harry said, releasing Hermione and pulling away. Hermione kept a tight grip on him. Harry looked down at her with an arched brow.

"Will you please stay a little bit longer," she asked.

Harry nodded, finding that he just could refuse her and the look she was giving him. Hermione took his hand and led him over to her bed. She climbed up and Harry followed her. He sat back against her pillows while she crawled under her covers. She snuggled close to him, and Harry placed an arm around her shoulders. "Go to sleep, Muggle."

"Good night, Harry," Hermione said closing her eyes and smiling.

"Good night, Hermione."


	23. Ghostly Eyes

**Chapter 23**

_Rain was pouring all around him, and the wind was howling in his ears. Sirius could hardly see, and he was freezing, but he pressed on with a single-minded determination. He didn't know where he was going. He was operating on autopilot. In the distance, Sirius could see a slight discoloration in the dark sky. He pushed himself faster, the roar of the engine blaring through his ears. _

_His heart thundered in his chest as he neared his destination. Smoke was billowing into the sky, and dying flames lit up the grass and nearby trees. Sirius jumped off his ride with no thought of the object or his landing. He scrambled to his feet and ran to the remains of what was once a beautiful house. The entire left side had been blasted away. Sirius stepped cautiously over the rubble. He did not know what he would find or what he was even looking for. _

_Underneath a large section of the former wall, Sirius could just make out an arm covered in dirt and blood. Sirius ran over and pushed the debris away. There was a man underneath. His messy black hair was coated with dust, blood, and water. The glasses on his face were shattered, a few shards sticking into his flesh. His clothes were torn, and his eyes squeezed shut. Sirius had seen death and torture many times in his life, and it hardly fazed him anymore. And although he could think of no reason why he would care about this man's death, Sirius fought back with all his willpower the urge to vomit. He dropped to his knees and shook the man as if he expected the lifeless body to move. Sirius strongly suspected he was crying, but it was hard to tell with the rain pouring around him._

_After a few minutes, Sirius suddenly stood and ran up towards the staircase. It had fallen apart. Strangely, as if he knew his way around this house, Sirius bolted through a series of hallways and backrooms, finally coming on another staircase. He climbed them three at a time. He ran through more hallways before entering the remains of a nursery. The once baby blue walls were charred, and sweet, fluffy stuffed animals and toys were blown to pieces. _

_On the floor, a toddler was crying loudly, blood pouring from a wound on its forehead. Sirius walked forward, his legs feeling like jelly. The baby took sight of him and crawled forward. Sirius numbly lifted him and used his own sleeve to wipe the blood away. Sirius looked at the floor where the baby had been sitting and began to shake violently. He dropped to his knees and placed the baby back down. _

_On the floor was a woman. She lay sprawled out, red hair fanning around her head like a halo. Her hair was so bright that it was hard to tell where it ended and the blood began. Her body was partially mangled from the explosion that had destroyed the side of the house. Her arm and neck were twisted in odd angles. Blood was trailing from the corner of her mouth. _

_Sirius crawled towards her on shaking arms. This woman—for some reason he cared about her, but he knew better. He should take the child and leave. He shouldn't look at her any longer. _

_He leaned over her cold body and was met by dull and lifeless eyes. _

Sirius jerked awake. He lay in his bed, covered with sweat and breathing heavily. He had just had a frightening dream. It was fading quickly from his mind. He struggled to recall the details. He was not easily moved by dreams, and for one to affect him in such a way was worth remembering. Within seconds, all the details of the dream had left him except for a pair of lifeless green eyes.

Sirius could not think of whom these eyes might belong to, but he knew that they once had been the brightest, most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. Sirius detangled himself from his bed sheets and walked on shaking legs to his bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face. Frowning, Sirius stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked awful. The mirror seemed to think so too. "You've got to do something about those bags, Master Sirius," it said. "A simple potion would liven you up in no time."

"Of course," Sirius muttered back. He stuck his head under the running water and shook all the excess from his hair in a manner similar to a dog. The mirror cried out in surprise and indignation.

After dressing, Sirius headed downstairs to his study, hoping against hope that there would be no orders from the Dark Lord today. The last thing he needed right now was something stressful to do. As he passed a mirror in the hallway, Sirius noted that it seemed as if one piece of foul news would break him. His hair was unkempt. His shirt was sticking out from under his vest, and his sleeves had not been fastened. He hadn't even bothered with a tie.

Sirius collapsed into the seat behind his desk and began to leaf through the many letters and notices. His workload for the day wasn't exceptionally heavy. He would probably only need to take a potion for headaches one or twice.

"Father," a low voice called from the doorway. Sirius looked up to see Harry standing there holding a piece of parchment in one hand. Having just turned fifteen a few days prior, Harry was growing up. He already stood just under half a head shorter than Sirius, and was filling out nicely. He was perhaps getting a little broad for his position as the Slytherin Seeker, but his exception flying skills could never be denied. "Father, I—are you all right?"

"You look bad, Daddy," Atria piped from her brother's hip. The four year old squirmed out of Harry's grasp and ran around the desk. She climbed up into Sirius's lap and settled the pink skirts of her dress around her properly.

"Is something wrong, Father," Harry asked, stepping forward into the office.

Sirius shook his head, running his hand over Atria's dark ponytail. He readjusted her bow. "I did not have the best night's sleep, but it's nothing to worry about. What's that you have?"

Harry's grin returned to his face, and Atria began to bounce, clutching her stuffed fawn excitedly. "My Hogwarts letter," Harry answered. Sirius arched a brow. Hogwarts letters were nothing to be so excited over. Harry was obviously already accepted into the school, and he knew that the letters always came on or around his birthday. Harry held out the letter with a look of pride on his face. "I made prefect."

Sirius smiled. "I had forgotten that was done in fifth year," he said. "Excellent job, son." Harry beamed. "Are you very proud of your brother, Atria?"

Atria grinned. "He beat Draco!"

Both Harry and Sirius laughed. "Indeed he did." Sirius took the letter from Harry and scanned the list of prefects. Back when he had been in school, they had been forced to wait until the train ride to see who all the prefects were. Someone had started a plan of sending out the entire list. Sirius wasn't sure what that accomplished, but it did allow him to see with whom his son would be working. He frowned as he read the names of the Gryffindors, a Weasley blood traitor and a filthy mudblood. The mudblood was a source of irritation to many respectable pureblooded parents. She was besting all of their children in every subject. Harry would not speak of her, but Draco openly complained that she was an insufferable know-it-all.

Sirius placed the parchment on his desk. It was inconsequential. His son was a pureblood. The girl was a mudblood. When the Dark Lord took over, the girl would be killed, and Harry would enjoy an even higher status than he currently did.

Sirius glanced over at his clock. It was nearing nine o'clock. "Have the two of you eaten," he asked.

"No, Father," Harry answered. "We came to see if you would join us." He gave his father a pointed stare. Sirius sighed. Especially since Atria had started noticing things around her, Harry had taken to acting almost motherly for the household. Adrienne certainly didn't play the part, and Sirius's mother was far too weak and ill to even leave her bed. Sirius was all too often busy with his work as family head and the Dark Lord's general. Sometimes he couldn't be bothered with trivial things like eating or sleeping.

With Harry's expectant tone and Atria's pleading face, Sirius couldn't possibly say no. He would be the first to admit that he was a sucker for his children. Anything they wanted, he would provide. After all, he had questioned the Dark Lord for Harry. Sirius stood, bringing his daughter with him. "I suppose a quick bite would not put me far behind today." Atria threw her arms around him, and Harry led the way down to the dinning room.

At the sight of them, Adrienne quickly finished her small meal and walked briskly from the room. The three other Blacks frowned after her. Sirius placed Atria into her seat, noting how all his—and most of the family's, for that matter—expectations of her had been accurate. She hadn't proved a mother to Sirius's son even when she still believed Harry to be biologically part of the family, and even with her own child, one produced by both of them and from her womb, Adrienne was cold and distant. While it was true that many pureblooded parents were not extremely close and loving to their children, they at least provided someone to be as such and were available if called for. Adrienne had merely birthed Atria and then practically dumped her. Perhaps she had expected Narcissa or her mother-in-law to step in again. Sirius had long ago relived Victoria of her duties as the Black family nanny. Harry and Draco had nearly broken the poor girl. Her father had raised Atria, as often as he could, Narcissa during the school year, and Harry during summers and holidays.

"The Malfoys are coming over later today," Harry reminded his father over their Eggs Benedict. Sirius nodded, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of toast. He would have to hurry and complete his work before they arrived. But it was just as well. He had important business to discuss with his cousins.

* * *

Nymphadora Tonks stared with wide pink eyes at the piece of parchment before her, running a hand through her matching hair. Some weeks ago, a colleague of hers, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had approached her about the mysterious secret society headed by Albus Dumbledore. When Tonks had been a child her mother had told her all she knew of the Order of the Phoenix. Tonks had known a few people in it, her mother's cousin, Sirius Black, and his friends.

She had jumped at the offer from Shacklebolt. It was a chance to further prove herself and at least help to show that Black blood didn't necessarily mean that someone was Dark or evil. After all, her mother had left the family to marry a Muggle-born wizard. Sirius had been very important to the Light side before suddenly disappearing and returning as the You-Know-Who's General.

Andromeda Tonks hadn't believed anything about Sirius being truly evil. She maintained that he had left the family, holding more hate and contempt for their narrow-mindedness than Andromeda could ever hope to have. She maintained that something had gone wrong, that someone had forced him back there and done something to make him act the way he did.

Of course, Tonks thought bitterly, she had been killed during one of Sirius's attacks on Diagon Alley. Sirius had probably delivered the blow himself.

Tonks had once liked her cousin. He had been lively and fun. Sure, he'd had flaws in his nasty temper or overly shrewd comments, but he was someone that—assuming he didn't hate you—you could trust and be comfortable around. He was insanely loyal and never backed down or left anyone alone to fight. He was a protector and a fighter. Tonks was forced to agree with her mother. Something had forced him to leave the Light.

Tonks turned her thoughts away from her cousin and back to her letter. It was from Dumbledore himself. She was going to be granted access to the first level of the Order. It was something like a dream come true. Finally Tonks would be part of an organization with a brain in its head. It wasn't that Rufus Scrimgeour wasn't an excellent head of the Aurors, but sometimes Tonks just felt like things weren't progressing fast enough, in one direction or another. The war had been going strong since the 70s. Neither the Light nor the Dark had a real heads up on the other. The Light had Dumbledore. The Dark had Voldemort. The Light had the Potters. The Dark had the Blacks. The Light had the Aurors and the Order. The Dark had the Death Eaters. The list of comparisons went on and on.

Tonks felt as though if she could get into an organization with someone like Dumbledore at its head, she could finally start to make a difference in this war. If only the minister felt the same then maybe something would be happening positive for their side.

Shacklebolt came to Tonks's cubicle after nearly all the others had gone home. He led her down to the Apparation point and took her arm. They appeared in a run down building. Tonks looked around curiously. "Where are we?"

"Your initiation, Miss Tonks," an elderly voice said. Tonks turned around to see her old headmaster standing in the middle of the room, several others around him. Tonks recognized Lily and James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus Lupin standing just behind him. She hadn't seen them in many years, but back when Sirius had still been on the Light side, she had known them.

The initiation wasn't anything like Tonks had pictured. The Order of the Phoenix was very secretive, and thus, Tonks had expected some sort of secret ritual of induction. It was hardly what one could call exciting, other than the general event. She was sworn to secrecy about all goings on of the Order and pledged loyalty to the members and the Light side of the war.

After it was all over, Tonks was allowed to mingle with those who had been there to witness her induction. Lily Potter smiled at her as she shook her hand. "It's good to have you here," she said.

Remus and James nodded. "It's been a long time since we've seen you, Nymphadora," Remus said in his polite voice.

"Oh, please, Remus," Tonks said with a scoff. "Call me Tonks." Remus arched a brow. "Or at least Dora," she relented.

"Well, she hasn't lost any of that old spunk," James said, ruffling her spiky purple hair. "You remember changing it at request for us?" Tonks laughed. When Sirius used to watch her, she would entertain him and James by changing her appearance at their requests. It had been great practice.

As Tonks laughed and reminisced with her old acquaintances, she marveled over how different yet similar they were. The war had changed them all. Lily was still as beautiful as she had ever been. She was still the smartest woman Tonks knew. But she was a mother stuck right in the middle of the war. She was one of Voldemort's most wanted. Her eyes weren't nearly as innocent.

James too was aging well. He looked as young and good looking as his wife, but frown lines were beginning to form on his face. His loss of his son and best friend to the Dark had hit him so hard. Tonks had heard plenty of stories from him and Sirius about their carefree days at Hogwarts. James had been forced to grow up quickly. He could still laugh and joke, as was currently evident, but the war was always on his mind. It was a plague on them all, but James Potter seemed to throw himself into it with more vigor than most. He had a lot to avenge.

The other two had changed the most, physically, anyways. Peter had lost nearly all of his hair but still wrung his hands in a nervous manner. But Tonks had to hand it to him, there was something different about how he carried himself. He stood much straighter than Tonks remembered.

Although he still had a very young face, Remus's hair was streaked with grey, and there were worry lines around his eyes. But he was still very much like Tonks remembered him. His golden eyes were very kind and expressive. He was quiet and polite, but still had that sense of humor about him that let you know he was definitely one of James Potter's best friends. Tonks almost laughed at how different their personalities were.

The night hadn't involved much work, but by the time Tonks returned to her flat, she was exhausted. She collapsed onto her bed and was fast asleep within seconds. She hadn't even had the energy to remove her uniform.


	24. The Marauders' Map

**Chapter 24**

Olivia Potter stood in line with numerous other eleven year old wizards waiting her turn to try on the Sorting Hat. Earlier that morning, Olivia had said goodbye to her sobbing mother and laughing father. Lily had been very reluctant to let her child go, but James was ready for Olivia to see Hogwarts as a student, not just as a place she went to hide when both her parents had to leave the house. He, Remus, and Peter had always filled her head with stories of their days in the school. The Marauders were, of course, things of legend.

Many students looked nervous as they stared at the Hat held in Professor McGonagall's fist. Olivia had always known the Sorting involved the Hat. She used to play with it in Dumbledore's office as a younger child.

"Potter, Olivia," McGonagall's sharp voice called out. Olivia walked confidently up to the stool. She waved happily at Headmaster Dumbledore, who, of course, returned the gesture with sparkling eyes and s a smile under his beard. She hopped up on the stool and smiled at the Head of Gryffindor. "Good luck, dear," the elderly woman whispered.

The brim of the Hat fell over her eyes, and, as with every other time she had put it on, she heard its voice in her head. "_You again_," it whispered. "_It's finally your turn, now? I knew what do to with you years ago._ GRYFFINDOR!" It shouted the last bit for the whole Hall to hear. The table decorated in red and gold cheered wildly for their new housemate. Olivia slid off the stool and hugged McGonagall before running over.

Olivia seated herself next to Ginny Weasley. "Hey you," the red head said cheerfully. The Potter and Weasley families had become good friends over the years from their work in the Order together. "No surprise you're here, is it?"

"Course not," Ron said from across the table. "All Potters are Gryffindors." Olivia smiled warmly at him.

After all the other first years had been Sorted and the feast began, Olivia caught Dumbledore's eye from the Head Table. She jumped up from her spot and ran around the table to talk to him. "Hi, Grandpa," she said with a hug.

The old man returned her hug. "Hello, my dear," he said, his merry twinkle in his eyes. "I trust your parents have already given you the Proper Behavior Speech."

"Well," Olivia said with a shrug, "Mum did."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes," he said. "It would be a bit hypocritical of James to have participated, hm?" Olivia laughed, accepting a bag of candy treats that he slipped her not so secretly before returning to her House table.

Later that night as the new first year girls changed into their pajamas for bed, one girl, Marian Findle, who Olivia had met on the train, asked, "You already know Dumbledore?"

Olivia blinked. "You went to talk to him during the feast," Marian continued, blushing. "I mean, I know you're a Potter and everything—"

Olivia laughed. "What's that got to do with it?"

Two of the other girls joined in the conversation. "Lots," Julie Mann said. "Dumbledore heads the Order of the Phoenix, right?" Olivia arched a brow. Although many people seemed to know rumors about the Order, officially, it didn't exist. Olivia had always been instructed to never speak of it with people who weren't members. "Well, your parents are supposed to be in the thick of it."

"Yeah," Wanda Prowler agreed. "And they're right up there with the headmaster on You-Know-Who's hit list!"

"Voldemort's," Olivia asked. Julie and Wanda both shrieked, and Marian gasped. "What?"

"You said his name!" Marian whispered. "You're not supposed to!"

"Fear of a name only increases fear of a thing," Olivia said wisely. Her mother had often said that when other people refused to call the Dark Lord by his name. "It's silly to be scared of his name! Try and say it."

All three other girls shook their heads violently. Olivia shrugged. Not everyone could be persuaded. The Weasleys all still called him by those little nicknames.

* * *

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. Ron and Neville were pointedly ignoring her as they huddled over an aged piece of parchment. "You can see anyone and where they are in the entire castle and grounds," Ron was explaining to Neville. "It's going to make sneaking out so much easier."

"Ron," Hermione insisted, "that is not something that a student should have! It could be dangerous, especially if it reveals passwords. We need to give it to Professor McGonagall."

"Hermione," Ron said aghast. "Are you mental? This is a treasure! That old bat would likely burn it." Hermione's nostrils flared, and her cheeks reddened at the insult to her favorite teacher.

Ron and Neville turned back to inspect the parchment. Hermione looked over Neville's shoulder. Although it was probably against dozens of school rules for Ron and Neville to have it, Hermione couldn't deny that it was a fine piece of magic. The old parchment was a cleverly concealed map of Hogwarts. Fred and George, who had lifted it from Flitch's office in their first year, had given it to Ron at the end of summer. They said it was high time he lived up to the name they had made for the Weasleys.

The map, officially titled the Marauders' Map, had been made by four mysterious people, by name Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Hermione had never heard of the names in any book, and it was unlikely that she would. The map was for jokes, pranks, and general mischief. At least Hermione now knew how Fred and George had been able to supply the Gryffindor parties with candies, cakes and butterbeer from Hogsmeade.

The Map could show the location and name of any person who entered the Hogwarts grounds and could not be fooled by spells and potions. It was a handy thing to have around, but Hermione couldn't allow it. It wasn't something for students.

"You really have to turn it in, Ron," she said.

"And look at this," Ron said erasing the map, "You can't force the Map out unless you know the password. Other wise, it just insults you." Ron held out the parchment for Neville to try. "Tell it to show you its secrets or something."

"Map," Neville said, "show me your secrets."

The three watched in wonder as ink began to spill across the page like it had done earlier when Ron had spoken the password. But instead of forming the lines of the hallways, words appeared across the page in different handwritings. There was a comment from each of the mapmakers.

"_Mr. Moony greets this person of mystery, but reminds him that soap is a useful tool."_

"_Mr. Prongs cringes, for he is sure the skunks are envious of your smell."_

"_Mr. Padfoot will remember for next time to cover his nose when you enter a room." _

"_Mr. Wormtail duly notes that if anything has been said to offend you, it was purely intentional!"_

Ron laughed, and Neville asked, "Do I really smell bad?"

Ron stopped laughing to consider this. "Well, you do smell a bit like dirt, mate."

"I just came from the greenhouses," Neville defended himself. "But that is pretty good," he added looking back down at the parchment where the words were fading. "Will it do that for anyone?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "Try it, Hermione." Hermione scoffed at the parchment. "Come on, Hermione," Ron pleaded. "I want to hear what the Marauders have to say about you and your uptightness."

"Did you just say Marauders," a young voice asked. The three sixth years looked to the side to see Olivia Potter standing at the corner of the hallway, several books in hand. Her eyes were glued to the parchment in Ron's hands.

"Hi, Olivia," Ron said. "What's it to you?"

Olivia slipped her books into her bag and walked forward. She reached up and took the paper from Ron. She took a second to study it before her face lit up. She pulled her wand from its position holding up her auburn hair. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," she said placing the tip of the wand on the parchment. She couldn't help but grin at the surprised faces of the older students.

"How the bloody hell did you know that," Ron asked, snatching the now exposed map back.

"It's easy enough when your dad is Prongs," Olivia said.

"James is Prongs," Ron asked incredibly. Then he grinned. "Wait till I tell Fred and George this. They'll have bloody heart attacks. Who are the others?"

"Moony is Remus Lupin, and Wormtail is Peter Pettigrew," she explained.

"Figures," Ron muttered. "But what about Padfoot?"

Olivia's face dropped. Very seriously, she said, "It's best to not ever speak of Padfoot."

"Why," Neville asked. Olivia just shook her head. Padfoot, or Sirius Black, was a sore spot in the Potter family, not that Olivia could really say she cared about that. She hadn't ever known him, and more than likely, he would want to kill her to get to her parents. That was the primary reason she had lived her entire life thus far in hiding. But Black had stolen her brother from his parents and turned him evil. Olivia certainly didn't like him for that.

"Right," Ron said, "I can't believe you know the Marauders. Hell, I know the Marauders."

"I can't believe you have the Map," Olivia said, taking hold of the map again. "They're going to be so excited when I tell them you found it. Dad said they lost it at the end of seventh year. Mum says it's no wonder with how messy their room was. How did you find this?"

"Fred and George nicked it from Filch," Ron answered. Together, the two boys peered over Olivia's shoulders to gaze at the map. Suddenly, Olivia made a disgusted noise. She looked up at the corner of the hallway. Ron and Neville followed her gaze, and a few seconds later, the Black cousins came into view. They were oddly without their usual group of lackeys. As they neared the group of Gryffindors, the Slytherins glared hatefully at their House rivals. They scoffed right back.

"Blood traitors," Draco Malfoy sneered.

"Bigot," Olivia retorted. Both Slytherins turned their cold grey eyes to her.

"I would be careful what I said if I were you," Draco said.

"Disgusting half blood," Harry commented. "Your father was moronic, ruing his family's potentially salvageable blood by marrying your filthy mother and spawning you."

Olivia wisely refrained from stating that they had the same mother. "Well, at least we're not inbred," she countered.

Draco and Harry exchanged glances. Harry arched a dark brow. "Recall that your father is a pureblood. I seem to recall a Sabastan Potter marrying a Silvia Norman, don't you, Draco?"

"Indeed, Harry," Draco replied. "She was his second cousin, was she not?"

"According to the family tree," Harry said cockily as he turned his sneer back to the girl. "Know your family history before you open the hole in your face, brat." Olivia's face turned red from slight embarrassment and anger.

"Back off her, Black," Ron snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "She's just a kid."

"It's no excuse to be uneducated," Draco snorted. "I knew my entire family tree at age seven. You'd have more trouble with that than me, though, wouldn't you? Doesn't your family have about ten children and only enough money to support one?"

"And just owning the necessities of survival," Harry added with a smirk as he brushed a stray hair from his rather expensive robes. "So tell me, Weasley, how is it that your mother manages to stay so festively plump on such meager proportions? She's not hording all the food to herself and starving her children, is she?" Draco chuckled.

Ron turned red and took a step forward, wand raised. Hermione reached out and grabbed his arm. "Ron! There is no fighting allowed in the hallways," she scolded.

"Hermione," Ron said through clenched teeth, "I know you're a stickler for the rules, but when someone's got it coming to have their teeth blown out, they've got it coming!"

"No fighting!"

"How sweet," Draco cooed. "Got your little mudblood girlfriend to protect you?" Harry narrowed his eyes at his cousin. It went unnoticed by all but Hermione. She repressed the urge to smile at him. It wouldn't do to give it all away now after so long.

"I'm certainly not his girlfriend, Malfoy," she said in a business like tone. "Now, both of you get out of here before I take points away from Slytherin or give detentions."

"You forget my cousin is the Slytherin prefect, Granger," Draco shot back.

"Then I'll take points from you and report his abuse of his position," Hermione said, placing her hands on her hips. Draco glared back at her for a few seconds before glancing at his cousin. Harry was regarding her with his usual cold gaze.

Harry motioned down the hall with his head. He and Draco turned to leave. "Muggle," Harry said as he passed Hermione.

"Bloody prats," Ron growled as the Slytherins turned the corner.

"Ron, you're not helping the situation," Hermione scolded.

"Come off it, Hermione," Neville said. "The whole lot of them are jerks. It's not like a single one of them has ever been nice to you." Hermione didn't respond. "See," Neville took her silence for agreement.

"Black's the worst of them," Olivia said, glaring at the corner where the older boys had disappeared. "Him and his terrible father."

"No one is ever going to bridge these gaps if you keep up these attitudes," Hermione sighed.

"Listen, Hermione," Ron said. "I know you want to be optimistic and all, but it's not going to work for this. It's been going on for over a thousand years. It's been happening since wizarding schools began. There's always going to be people like the Blacks and Malfoys. They're always going to hate people like you because they think you're less than them."

"None of us have ever tried to be friends with them."

"It wouldn't work," Neville said. "They'd just hurt you somehow." Hermione shook her head, but didn't press her opinions. Ron and Neville could be just as stubborn as the Slytherins in their old prejudices and opinions. They just didn't realize it.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said. "We should be studying." Ron and Neville groaned. "And Olivia, don't you have class?"

"Bleeding Christ," Olivia yelled and ran off down the hallway.

Several hours later, Hermione slipped out of the Gryffindor common room, her book bag secured over her shoulder and prefect badge gleaming on her chest. She walked swiftly through the candlelit hallways, her shoes clicking soundly on the stone floor. She went down one of the main halls leading towards the library, slowing only slightly to remove five points from Ravenclaw for a third year being out after hours.

She approached a branch off at the end of the hall, but instead of taking the staircase up to the library, she turned left and headed down a smaller set of spiraling stairs. At the bottom of the stairwell, she stopped at a tapestry. Hermione exposed the wall behind it and tapped a stone with her wand three times. The wall dissolved away to reveal a doorway. Hermione stepped inside, the wall returning to it original form behind her. She walked down a small dark corridor lit only by one small candle mounted on the wall beside an old wooden door. Hermione lifted the old iron handle and stepped inside.

It was a rather small but cozy room, decorated by those who inhabited it. It had been obvious when Hermione had found it that there hadn't been anyone inside for years. Hermione wondered if the headmaster knew of its location. She had heard him once say that even he, who had been at Hogwarts for so long, could not pretend to know all the school's secrets. There were two squishy, old armchairs, a lone couch, a coffee table, and a few lamps for light. There was a small fireplace with a warm fire blazing beside the armchairs. Several pieces of parchment were spread over the table, along with small textbook and note piles. A few quills and an inkbottle were placed carefully in the corner away from the notes in case of a spill.

Hermione walked over to the table and dropped her bag on the floor. "Sorry I'm late," she said, sweeping her bushy hair up into a ponytail. She pulled out her potions textbook.

Harry Black looked up from his notes. He arched a brow at her. "I hardly noticed," he said. Hermione frowned and lightly smacked him with her book. "Hey, that's a N.E.W.T. level. Those things hurt."

"You baby," Hermione said, opening the text. "I hardly touched you."

"I still claim physical trauma," Harry muttered.

"Oh, shut it and study," Hermione huffed. Harry shrugged his shoulders and leaned over his book. Hermione regarded him for a few seconds before turning to her own. From the corner of her eye, she could see him running his hand through his dark hair, causing it to stick up in even more disarray than usual. His hair was so hopeless. It was the only blemish on his otherwise perfect pureblooded, aristocratic appearance.

Hermione almost laughed. Harry was perfectly aristocratic. He held his back perfectly straight. He hardly ever raised his voice, and he laced his language in such a way that he could make the most terrible of insults sounds lovely. He was gentlemanly. He stood when women entered rooms, held chairs out for them, and opened doors. He had fine taste and always dressed to impress. He wanted his hair to lie flat, but Hermione knew he wouldn't be Harry without that messy mop.

Harry leaned back into the cushions of the couch. He wasn't wearing a sweater or vest, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his tie was hanging loosely. He only looked that casual around her. Hermione knew that his father and family expected perfect appearance. He wouldn't let himself look anything less than perfect around his peers. Hermione was the only one, aside from maybe Draco, who ever saw him relaxed. Hermione supposed that made perfect sense. She was his best friend, and he was hers. Sure, Ron and Neville were great, but neither of them could match the level she connected with Harry on.

Hermione pointedly ignored his exposed arms and the top of his chest, all of which were well sculpted from Quidditch and the dueling his father had him learn. Hermione was a sucker for arms and chest. She buried her face in her book to block the impressive view. It wasn't a good idea either way. She shouldn't be thinking about her best friend in that manner, no matter how weak he made her knees when he smiled. _No! "The love potion smells differently to each person according to what attracts him or her…" Oh, this isn't helping._

Harry arched a brow in Hermione's direction. He could only see the tips of her ears sticking out from her potions book. They were turning pink. What in Merlin's name was she reading in there? A few minutes later, Hermione shrugged off her robe and pulled her sweater over and off her head. She got in a good stretch before returning to her book. And being that Harry was respectable young man of sixteen years, he stared right at her chest until she lowered her arms.

Hermione was certainly not attractive, according to conventional pureblood society, that is. Harry supposed that others would say she was lovely enough. But for his society, her hair was too bushy, and her skin was dark from time under the sun. She was also rather short. Up until fourth year, her front teeth had been large. She always had her nose buried in a book, and she scolded people for owning House Elves.

She never did herself up. In fact, the only time Harry had ever seen her dressed up was Yule Ball during their fourth year. Harry had been shocked to see her later than night. Her hair was smooth and shining. She had used nearly an entire bottle of potion on it. She had been in a dress and heels. Harry had wanted to simply jump her right there.

Harry knew it was wrong of himself to think thoughts like that. Not only was Hermione a Muggle, but she was his best friend. He wasn't sure which made the situation worse.

Yes, to his society, she wasn't beautiful. She wasn't even pretty. But Harry fancied her. He thought she was lovely enough. She knew him better than anyone, including his father and Draco. If Harry had to be attracted to a mudblood, at least it was her.

He flipped the page of his textbook and reached for his quill. He added a full three inches to his essay before running out of room on the roll of parchment. He shuffled through his stacks of notes and in the pages of his books. He couldn't find a single piece of blank parchment. He looked to Hermione's side of the table. Sitting on top of a book was a very old looking piece, but it was blank. Harry reached over and lifted it. Just as he was about to press his quill onto the page, Hermione shrieked and snatched the parchment from under his hand. A blob of ink splashed across his essay. "Hermione!"

"Oh, sorry, Harry," Hermione said, waving her wand to dispatch the ink stain. He stared at her oddly. She was clutching the parchment protectively.

"What's with the parchment," he asked.

"Nothing," Hermione said. "But that reminds me, we need to be more careful about this." She motioned from herself to him with her free hand.

Harry arched a brow. "Have the blood traitors tried following you around?"

Hermione gave Harry a pointed glare. "No, they haven't."

"Well, have they been questioning you, then," he asked. Hermione shook her head. "Then why the hell should we care?"

Hermione placed the parchment in her lap and picked up her wand from the table. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," she said placing the tip to the paper. Harry watched as ink spread from her wand tip over the parchment.

"Merlin's beard," he breathed. "What is it?"

Hermione unfolded the map. "It's a map, made by some blokes called the Marauders. I hadn't heard of any of them before, but the map is amazing. It shows the entire grounds and everyone on them. It can't be fooled by spells or potions."

Harry's grey eyes grazed over numerous dots, each with names written under. He traced hallways with his finger, resting over the room he and Hermione were currently sitting in. "Where did you get this?"

"It's Ron's," Hermione said. "I had to steal it before I came. If he and Neville used it while we were in here, we'd get caught in minutes."

Harry frowned. "You have to keep it from them," he said. "Turn it into your Head."

"Ron got it from his brothers. He's so excited about it," Hermione said slowly. "It's not mine to give away."

"Hermione," Harry said seriously, taking the map from her, "if they have the map, they can find us together. According to everyone, we have no reason to be in the same room except for classes and prefect meetings. Word would get back to my father. He would kill you, Hermione."

"Maybe I could just hide until we've graduated. I mean, it would kill Olivia for it to be destroyed," Hermione said.

"Olivia," Harry asked. "The Potter girl? What's she got to do with it?" Hermione reached over and folded the map to reveal the Marauders' seal. Harry read the names aloud. "Who are they?"

"They're nicknames. Moony is Remus Lupin. Wormtail is Peter Pettigrew. Prongs is James Potter," Hermione explained.

Harry sneered. "Order members," he said. "What about this Padfoot?"

"Olivia said that it was best not to talk about him," Hermione said. "But those three are friends, so I guess Padfoot was part of their group. He must have died, and they don't like to talk about it."

Harry scoffed, "People die in wars, especially one that's been going on for decades."

"You don't have to be so insensitive about it," Hermione said. "It might have been very tragic for them. Harry, you're lucky that you've never lost anyone close to you, but think about your mother."

"What about her," Harry asked. Hermione wasn't making sense.

"You don't know a thing about her," Hermione said. "Your father never talks about her." Harry's brows drew together. "Her death was obviously sudden, she was only about twenty. Your father doesn't ever talk about her because of how tragic it was." Harry slowly nodded. "They can feel that too, you know."

Harry leaned back on the couch. The two teenagers were silent for a few minutes. "This map belongs to Olivia's father," Hermione said. "He made it with his best friends. We can't destroy it."

"Make sure you have it with you every time we meet up," Harry said.

"That should be easy," Hermione said. "I have enough dirt on Ron and Neville that they won't put up much of a fight. They won't want any owls sent home."

"You are positively evil, Muggle," Harry said sitting up and grinning at her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back into the cushions with him. Hermione chuckled and rested her hand on his arms. She tucked her head comfortably under his chin. "Strange how you're able to be so bloody nice at the same time."

"That's the interesting thing about girls, Harry," she said.

"Little devils, all of you."


	25. Like Romeo and Juliet

**Chapter 25**

"_Look, Padfoot, all I'm saying is that just because she's got knockers doesn't mean you have to shag her."_

"_Are you saying it's a reason not to?" _

"_No."_

"_Would you shag her? I mean, if there wasn't Lily flower to consider, of course. No answer. You'd do it too, so don't give me any of that." _

"_I just say try getting a girl and not having sex with her within the first three days."_

"_Come off it, Prongs. I've never tricked a single girl. They've all agreed to it. You know me better than that." _

"_Some times I wonder." _

"_Shut it." _

"_Hey, don't hit me!" _

"_Then don't hit back!" _

Sirius Black shook his head. He glanced to the side to get his bearings. He was in his office at home. He had spaced out while going over a financial profile. What was that he had just imagined? He had seen himself, as a younger man, perhaps in his last year or so of Hogwarts, talking civilly and jokingly with James Potter. Sirius grimaced. No such thing had even happened within the realms of reality.

Sirius pondered momentarily if he was going mad. For months now, he had been having dreams that had seemed so familiar, like memories, yet Sirius knew they could have never happened in real life. These almost-memories featured him interacting with blood traitors and mudbloods as though they were his friends. They would joke and laugh and hug. They called each other by nicknames, those strange names that Potter always tried to call him, that Padfoot and Prongs nonsense. He always seemed so close to Potter and his mudblood in those almost-memories.

Perhaps he was going mad. Sirius was under tremendous and constant stress. He was one of the most wanted men in Britain. He was head of an entire vast family and all its fortunes. He was trying to balance his duties as the Dark Lord's general with raising a son and daughter. He was trying to teach Harry all he would need to know to take over the family one day. If Sirius was indeed losing his mind, perhaps these strange dreams were side effects.

If they were, it was getting serious. They had begun to infiltrate his waking hours too.

Sirius resumed reading his report. He frowned. Adrienne had been spending far too much money lately. He made a note to have the gold cleared out from the vault she had access to for a few months. That would remind her to keep her spending in check. He sent an elf out with the message and stood from his chair. After a quick stretch, he strolled from the office.

He walked into the parlor where Atria was playing with her dolls and was surprised to see his mother rather than a House Elf watching over her. "Mother," Sirius asked with concern, "why are you out of bed?"

Walburga smiled at her elder son. She motioned weakly to her granddaughter with her hand. Over recent months, she had become even more ill, and speaking easily tired her. Sirius strongly suspected that his mother would not be alive much longer.

"Mother, Atria could have been brought to your room if you wanted to see her," Sirius said. "You need to stay in bed. You don't have the strength for this right now."

Walburga frowned and said in a near whisper, "When will I ever again?"

"Do not speak so negatively, Mother," Sirius said with a glance to his daughter. She was hardly six years old. She didn't need to hear anyone speaking of her grandmother dying. Atria continued to play with her dolls, showing no indication that she was paying an ounce of attention to the adults in the room. "I'll have the elves bring you back upstairs. If you wish, Atria can go up with you." Walburga stared at her son with a steely eye for a few seconds before nodding. Sirius called sharply for two elves to levitate his mother back to her room. To a third he muttered, "Be sure they slam their hands in the oven for bringing her down." Then, he scooped up Atria and her dolls and walked her up the stairs.

Sirius had hardly set her down when his forearm began to burn. Quickly, Sirius ran from the room and down into the parlor. He grabbed his cloak and mask from the stand and disappeared into the fireplace.

As with every battle, the chaos began immediately. Buildings were blasted to rubble, and bodies littered the streets. Sirius was careful as always to watch out for Order members and Aurors as he shot his own jinxes and curses across the battlefield. He frowned out as he watched his operatives struggling to make it past a particularly efficient Auror team. He glanced down at his two guards. Sirius was quite capable of holding his own in any battle, so he motioned for them to reinforce their fellow Death Eaters.

With a hawk's eye, Sirius smirked as he watched the team break through the Auror's line of defense. He jumped back as a wave of red sparks shot past his face. Sirius turned to see who had fired the spell at him and was met with the sight of Lily Potter. Not quite in the mood for playing, Sirius glowered at her. "You've picked a foul day to cross my path, Mrs. Potter," he said leaping down from his perch, jinx blasting her way.

Lily dodged, firing her own spells back at him. Sirius snorted as he blocked them. Both the Potters were pathetic duelers. They never fired aggressive spells at him, excluding the occasional Stun Spell. Although elementary, Sirius shot a Jelly Legs Jinx at the woman. It hit, and she crumpled to the ground, giving Sirius ample opportunity to hit her with the Cruciatus Curse. Lily withered on the ground, screaming with intense pain. Sirius grinned as he let the curse beat down on her relentlessly. He broke the curse only to keep her conscious, giving her a few seconds of recovery before renewing the pain.

After a few minutes, short for him but a small eternity for her, Sirius lifted his wand. Lily lay on the ground gasping for air. Blood was pouring from her nose and lip where she had bitten down too hard. A bruise was forming over her right eye where she had hit her head from the fall. Sirius stood over her, wand grasped tightly in his hand. Lily remained on the ground, eyes closed tightly as she struggled through the remaining pain to find her wand. Sirius chuckled. "I've waited a long time for this, Potter," he sneered, holding his wand over his head.

The tip of his wand glowed the eerie green of the Killing Curse.

With an expression Sirius could almost call resign, Lily Potter opened her eyes to watch him as he delivered the final blow. Sirius stopped.

Her green of her eyes was dull and lifeless, a mockery of the usual brightness. She lay staring up at him unmoving, still as if death had already claimed her. The sounds of the battle faded, and the street melted away. They were replaced by the booming claps of thunder and the remains of a once splendid old house. Her hair was fanned around her, mixing seamlessly with blood.

An explosion of blue sparks erupted in the sky, signaling that the mission had been accomplished. Somehow, Sirius registered it. He immediately Apparated away.

* * *

Hermione Granger whistled cheerfully along with the suits of armor that lined the main hall of Hogwarts. She had completed her last winter final and would be returning home for the holidays in a couple of days. Normally, Hermione just passively enjoyed Christmas, but for some reason, she was feeling particularly festive this year. The candy was sweeter, the snow more beautiful, and the songs more singable. Tinsel lined the hallways, and fairies serving as living lights sparkled in the candlelight. Hermione adore it all.

Hermione had just left Ron, Neville, and several other housemates outside where they had been engaged in an epic snowball fight. Having agreed to not use magic, Hermione had been without her extensive Charms knowledge to back her fighting and prison escapes. Being that she had been early imprisoned in the snow fortress and all of her attempts at escape had been foiled, Hermione was soaking wet and freezing. Not wanting to catch a cold at the beginning of the holidays, Hermione had decided to head in early.

Instead of returning to the Tower, Hermione jogged down the halls to hers and Harry's room. She wasn't expecting him to be in there—although she had swiped the Marauders' Map just in case—but was pleased to find him reclined in the green armchair reading a book in the warmth of the fire. He looked up as she entered the room and raised a brow at her wet clothes. "Soaked much," he asked.

"Snowball fight," she responded, removing her coat and laying it next to the fire to dry. She pulled off her hat, scarf, and gloves. Using her wand to blow warm air, Hermione dried her wet bottom. She sat on the couch, adjusting her skirt over her tights and looking over at Harry.

"Done," he asked.

"Quite," Hermione answered with a smile.

"Right," Harry said, marking his place in his book and joining her on the couch.

"Ready for the holidays?"

Harry pursed his lips together. "Well, it will be the first one without my grandmother," he said. Hermione winced. "Don't worry about it," Harry said before she could open her mouth. He had been close to his grandmother, closer than most children of his society being that she had been more influential in his raising than his proper maternal figure. But Harry had known that his grandmother's death was soon to come. She had been ill since before he could remember. The potions had kept her going for a long time, far longer than nature itself would have intended. But she had joined her ancestors, and Harry knew she was now happy.

Hermione could empathize with Harry, but she couldn't really sympathize. She still had all of her grandparents. In fact, Hermione had never lost anyone close to her. She came from a Muggle family, so apart from the occasional fear of Death Eaters attacking Muggles, Hermione's family was uninvolved with the war. Harry was right in the middle. Most of his family members were in some way involved with the Dark Lord.

Hermione sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. Harry's arm draped lazily over her shoulders. They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes. This was something Hermione had always loved about being with Harry. They didn't need to talk. With her other friends, silences always felt awkward. But it was never like that with Harry. Hermione leaned her head up towards the ceiling, and her face turned bright red. "Oh," she exclaimed.

Harry glanced down at her with a raised brow. Seeing her eyes locked on the ceiling, he too looked up. His face paled slightly. There was a little bundle of the school's wandering mistletoe hanging above their heads. The two teenagers sat frozen staring at the little plant hanging with false innocence above their heads. "Hm," Harry finally cleared his throat. "That's interesting."

"I didn't know they could get in here," Hermione said as objectively as she could. The effect was more than likely lost due to the bright glowing of her cheeks.

"Guess so," Harry said. He turned his eyes back down to look at her. Hermione could feel the gaze, but she kept her eyes locked on the ceiling. She felt completely mortified. This was the perfect and most innocent opportunity to kiss him. And if he got weirded out, which he more than likely would, Hermione could just blame the mistletoe. But Harry knew she normally wasn't one to go the flow of everything if it seemed out of place to her. And kissing him should seem out of place, after all.

It was best to just not take the risk. By nature, Hermione wasn't really a risk taker. She formulated all the things that could and probably would go wrong in a given situation. But if a course of action needed to be taken, she would find the safest and most foolproof way. There was no foolproof way to kiss Harry. And Hermione was perfectly fine with their relationship as it was. She didn't need anything to change. She might wish it could progress, but there was no need for a change.

"Mistletoe really is such an unattractive thing," she began to ramble. "Kills the trees it grows on, you know. I can't imagine what possessed people to use it. I mean, the only thing that makes it even remotely appealing is that little ribbon they tied to it. It's such a silly, useless little tradition, mistletoe. I mean, there's no real reason to do it, and there's certainly no one around to say that we should, and—"

Quite suddenly Harry put his hand to Hermione's cheek and pushed her lips to his, effectively silencing her. Hermione sat in frozen shock, her mind not quite comprehending what was happening to her. Harry Black…Harry was…kissing…her. Harry was kissing her.

Harry drew back from her, his hand still resting against her cheek. Hermione stared back at him. Grey locked with brown. Neither seemed able to move or speak.

Harry stroked his thumb against her skin and offered her a tiny smile. They closed the space between them, lips meeting again. This time, Hermione was able to kiss back. The kiss quickly lost the innocence of the first one as Harry pushed Hermione back into the couch and slipped his tongue into her mouth, which she met with the same enthusiasm. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, and Harry ran a hand down her side, causing her to giggle slightly.

Suddenly something occurred to Hermione, and she broke off the kiss. "Wait," she breathed heavily, "Harry, stop."

"Why," Harry asked, moving to try and kiss her again.

"No," Hermione said firmly, pushing him up. She had been wishing for something like this to happen for so long, she couldn't believe she was stopping it. Harry looked like he couldn't believe it either. He was still leaning over her when Hermione asked, "Why are you doing this, Harry?"

"Why," Harry asked with an almost nervous hint in his voice. "Well, the mistletoe," he tried.

"Only requires one kiss," Hermione finished. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why are you," he retaliated. Hermione shook her head at his evasive tone.

"Are you just doing this because you think you can get away with it, that I wouldn't say anything or stop you," she asked.

"What? No," Harry said, moving off of her and clearly offended by her very suggestion. "I wouldn't do that to you, especially not to you."

Hermione sat up. She locked her eyes with Harry's face, but he kept his gaze on his hands. It seemed a strange twist. It was normally Hermione who first broke eye contact. "Then why are we doing this, Harry? Does it mean to you what it means to me?"

Harry frowned. He hadn't properly thought this through when he first kissed her. He should have known one kiss would make him want another. Then he should have known that she would demand to know what he was doing. But oddly, she didn't seem disgusted, and she had seemed to have enjoyed it for at least a few minutes. Her mind must have finally caught up with her.

He didn't want to have to talk about this. He just wanted it to happen. He just wanted to be with her. Not only was he a man, but he was of the highest class of pureblood. He wasn't raised to have to talk about things. He was raised with a name and attitude that would get him anything he wanted or needed. He looked up to see Hermione's expectant expression. Well, almost anything. He couldn't get away with such things with her.

Harry sighed. He couldn't believe this was happening. "You know I would never take advantage of you like that," he started. "Not that you would let me," he tried joking. Hermione looked to have lost her cheerful mood. Harry furrowed his brows. He didn't know how to say what he needed to—a rare occasion—so Harry just opened his mouth and let the words tumble out.

"Ever since I first met you, I've been trying to understand why I continued to come to you, why I speak with you, why I even look at you. You aren't supposed to mean anything to me. You're supposed to be nothing more than a stain in my otherwise perfect life. This display we've just done, this disgusting—"

"Disgusting," Hermione cried, greatly insulted.

"No," Harry said quickly. "What I mean is, Muggle, we shouldn't have even been friends, but for me to feel like this about you, it wasn't supposed to happen."

Hermione kept her eyes narrowed, but gently asked, "And how do you feel about me?"

Harry finally locked eyes with her. "As ridiculous and corny as it sounds, I just want to be around you. I want to hear you laugh and see you smile. I want to hold you and kiss you again, and I don't want anyone else to ever be close with you. I don't know how long I've felt like this, but I do know that I never want it to stop. I want it to grow stronger. The day I met you, something about me changed. I don't care anymore for Muggles or mudbloods than I did before, but I care for you, and I can't imagine not being like this," he spilled.

"That is pretty corny," Hermione said, a smile finally lighting up her face. Harry shrugged. She scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. "We've kept our friendship a secret for this long, so who's to say we can't hide this too?"

Harry returned her embrace. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it would be?"

"Any more dangerous than being friends," she asked.

"Good point, but probably," he said.

"Harry," she said, lowering his face to lock eyes, "I don't care. The way I feel about you is too strong for me to care about what other people, even your father, would think."

Harry rested his forehead against hers. "So we're doing this," he asked. She nodded. He chuckled. "How did we manage to come to this?" Hermione just laughed. Harry leaned down and kissed her again. Both smiled. Finally, they could do this whenever they wanted.

* * *

Harry and Draco walked into the Black family home, dropping cloaks and trunks for the House Elves to take care of. They walked into the parlor where their families were awaiting their return for the holidays. Atria ran into Harry's arms before he had taken two steps into the room. Narcissa kissed the boys on the cheek, and they shook hands with their fathers. The boys took their own seats, and the family conversed about the semester, Atria asking questions excitedly about Hogwarts as if she'd never heard of the place before.

Dinner was set around an hour later. They adjourned into the dinning hall and set themselves in proper order around the table. Narcissa and Adrienne chatted, and Draco and Harry kept Atria entertained. Sirius and Lucius, Harry noted, were oddly silent throughout the meal. After desert had been served and eaten, they remained seated around the table, another odd occurrence. Harry and Draco looked at each other mildly confused over Atria's head. The family normally returned back to the parlor for wine after their meals.

Even Atria seemed to notice that something was odd. In attempts to break off the heavy silence, she asked Sirius if she might show Draco and Harry the presents she had gotten for her birthday. "No, Atria," Sirius responded. "Your brother and cousin are to stay downstairs. You may go up to your room if you like." Atria looked up at Harry, unsure if she should leave him alone. Harry smiled and nodded at her. The little girl slipped down from her chair and left the room as quickly as was acceptable for a little lady, a House Elf following closely.

Simultaneously, Sirius and Lucius felt the burning on their forearms. They looked at each other and nodded. "Harry, Draco, fetch your cloaks," Lucius said as he stood from the dinner table.

"Make sure you have your wands," Sirius added as he swept from the room, son and kinsmen behind him.

Harry and Draco spared each other a glance as they followed their fathers, faces white. They didn't have to be told to know what was happening. It was finally their turns to be initiated by the Dark Lord.


	26. Backwards Traditions

**Chapter 26**

Harry adjusted his robes as he stared into his mirror. He glared for a half moment at his wayward hair, mentally and physically willing it to lay flat. As was usual, it failed to listen. Harry did one final check to make sure everything was in place and that his boots were shining before emerging from his room. His father was hosting numerous associates of both the business and Death Eater nature and their families over for dinner. As family heir, it was Harry's responsibility to look extremely presentable. He stopped on the second floor of the manor to collect Atria. The little girl twirled around in her lacey white dress. Harry smiled, straightened her bow, and took her hand to lead her downstairs into the ballroom, where the family and its guests would mingle until the meal was ready.

The complete members of the Black family were the first to arrive. Harry left Atria with some of the younger children and walked over to join his father, Lucius, and Draco in conversation. Having both turned seventeen, the boys were no longer allowed to mingle with the underage children for more than a couple of minutes. Harry hardly minded. Apart from his sister, he didn't particularly care for the younger children. Also, it was more time to spend with his father. He knew Draco appreciated the time too.

There was perhaps time for one round of drinks before an elf chimed the dinner bell. The host family and its guests adjured into the massive dinning hall. Families all sat together, Sirius at the head and Regulus far across from him. Harry sat to the right of his father, Atria between him and Draco. Harry reminded Atria to place her napkin in her lap before the party began their first course. As dinner continued, the hall was abuzz with conversation.

After desert had been consumed, Sirius tapped his wine glass with his fork. The noise echoed through the hall, and voices died down into silence. Sirius's grey eyes swept over those seated at his table. He stood, and all eyes followed his movements. Many of his guests were watching with eager, curious faces. They all knew exactly what was going on, and they had been waiting years to hear Sirius's decision. "I must first thank all of you for joining us here this evening," Sirius began. A polite clap filled the hall as a return of thanks for invitation. "This decision was made many years ago, and I know that each of you are keen to finally learn what I determined to be the best choice."

Several people sat up straighter.

"All of you have joined my family to bear witness to the official engagement of my son and heir to Miss Sabina Nott."

Several families, those who never had a chance, applauded. The daughters who might have once been considered for the Black heir pouted as their parents whispered to each other. Sirius and Mr. Nott toasted each other as Adrienne and Mrs. Nott shared a polite nod. Bellatrix and Narcissa both looked very pleased. Atria happily told Draco that she would have a sister.

Harry sat motionless in his seat beside his father. He was completely numb. He was engaged? His father had found him a wife?

The small logical voice in his head whispered that of course Sirius had arranged his marriage. That was the way of things in their society. Harry was foolish for having forgotten. Being seventeen, he should have been expecting this, especially after Draco's had been announced just last month.

He looked down the table. Sabina was watching him, and when she noticed his gaze, she offered him a small smile and nodded.

And then Harry thought of Hermione. Looking back, he was proud he hadn't cursed aloud. The Muggle was going to be furious with him. She'd rant and rave about how backwards the tradition was, and she'd scream at him for not telling her about it. She'd claim he was just using her. She'd refuse to be a mistress.

The rest of the evening was a blur. All Harry could think of was Hermione's disappointed face. He didn't register the handshakes of congratulations he received from men both his age and his father's. He barely noticed when Draco clapped him on the back later that night, claiming Sabina to be a fine lady, one who would make an excellent lady of the manor. He hardly paid attention as he and Sabina were properly presented to each other.

Finally all the guests departed, the Notts being the last family to go. Harry was quick to excuse himself for the night. Sirius gave him Atria to put to bed. After tucking the girl in, Harry went into his room and removed his broom from his shelf. He locked his door and flew out the window.

Hermione sat at her vanity table. It was rather late in the night, later than she was usually up. Her mother had bought her a particularly interesting book that morning, and she hadn't been able to stop reading until she had reached the end. Hermione took a ball of cotton and lightly soaked it with a potion. She dabbed it over her face and tossed it into the trash bin. She sprayed another potion into her hair and began to brush through her thick locks.

At the sound of a light tap on her window, Hermione looked over. Seeing Harry floating outside, she smiled. With a flick of her wand, her wireless came to life and the window opened smoothly. She continued to brush her hair as Harry soared into the room and propped his broom against the wall. He walked over and met her for a quick kiss. Hermione smiled and pulled her hair back.

"I wasn't expecting you tonight," she said. Harry shrugged. Hermione smiled at him through the mirror, but quickly frowned again. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "Why?"

Hermione just shrugged. She yawned. "You came pretty late, though. I was about to go to bed."

"I'll just stay until you fall asleep," Harry said following her over to her bed. Hermione climbed under the comforter, and Harry sat beside her. He immediately wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Hermione blinked up at him. Harry usually wasn't one for a big show of affections, even if they were always alone and away from prying eyes. She usually had to snuggle up next to him for several minutes before he'd hug her like this.

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong, Harry," she asked. "You look sort of off."

"I just want to sit here and hold you for a while, all right, Muggle," Harry said gently so as not to anger her. "Please." Hermione stared hard at him for a moment before nodding and laying her head against his chest. He squeezed her tightly and kissed the top of her head. He pushed bitter thoughts of his engagement from his mind and focused on the girl in his arms. He didn't know if he'd be able to do this much longer.

* * *

Harry shut the door to the prefects' compartment on the Hogwarts Express after the last of the prefects had filed out. Behind him came the sound of a giggle. He turned around with a smirk to face a laughing Hermione. "This whole thing is absolutely perfect," she said with a grin.

"What," Harry asked, "you didn't see this coming?" He gestured from his Head Boy badge to her Head Girl one.

"Well," Hermione said with a blush, "I suppose so."

"So modest," Harry said as he took a seat.

Hermione smiled slyly and slid into his lap. Harry slipped his arms around her waist. "We'll have our own suite," she said with a wink.

Half surprised by her suggestive tone, Harry asked, "Really?"

Sitting up straight and resuming her normal, no-nonsense manner, Hermione said, "Of course, I won't be putting out."

Harry frowned and pushed her from his lap. "You know, you really can't say things like that to a teenage boy and then so suddenly rip it from his grasp."

"And here I was thinking you'd been raised a gentleman," Hermione laughed. She took her own seat next to him and rested her hand over his. "But it'll be nice, not having to sneak around to see each other."

Harry smiled and gave her a quick kiss. "Yeah," he said. "It'll be nice."

They remained in the compartment a while longer, Hermione attempting to discuss their head activities and duties while Harry only put up a halfhearted effort. He didn't so much care about the duties as he did the title. Of course, it was expected that a Black should be a Head Boy. It was just the way of things. Finally figuring they had been putting it off long enough, Harry and Hermione made their way to their respective friends' usual compartments. Harry reached the Slytherins' compartment first. In the usual way, he snapped the door shut behind him without so much as a glance back at her. Hermione continued down the halls and slipped into the Gryffindor compartment.

Ron, Ginny, and Neville all greeted her warmly, while Ginny's Ravenclaw friend Luna Lovegood smiled dreamily at her. Hermione placed herself in the seat next to Ginny and began to catch up with the rest of them.

After finally arriving at Hogwarts and the Sorting finished, Professor Dumbledore began the feast in his usual way. Hermione chuckled and dug into her roasted chicken. At one point she glanced over at the Slytherin table to see Harry sitting, as usual, next to his cousin, but unusually next to Sabina Nott. Sabina was a sixth year, Hermione knew, Theodore Nott's younger sister. Nott was perhaps one of the few other people in the world Harry considered an equal and worthy of his time. But Hermione wondered why he was sitting next to Nott's sister. She also wondered why Sabina was trying to nuzzle up next to him. Harry was treating her as he treated any other girl who tried to push herself upon him. He wasn't acknowledging her advances, but he wasn't exactly pushing her off either.

Hermione frowned. She could feel that wicked little jealous flame growing inside of her. As Hermione was very comfortable with herself, she didn't often have chances to show to the world exactly how jealous she could become. But if this girl didn't back off her man, she was going to be in for a world of hurt.

As if her stare was tangible, Harry glanced up and his grey eyes flickered over to the Gryffindor table. Seeing the fire in his secret lover's eyes directed at him, he calmly muttered something to the younger girl and she moved away from him. He then resumed his meal as though nothing had ever happened.

As the year progressed, Hermione was becoming more and more immersed in her textbooks. She'd had two minor breakdowns back in fifth year studying for O.W.L.s, and everyone could see repeats coming more than a mile away. It took physical restraint from either Harry or Ron and Neville to force her to take breaks. Although it made Hermione furious and worried at the time, they knew she'd thank them after the tests were over.

As they sat in their common room, Harry had finally convinced Hermione that it was perfectly acceptable and, in fact, healthy for her to take a small study break. He collected her in his arms and stretched out against the couch. Hermione began to chat, but Harry soon interrupted her. "Hermione, can we not talk right now," he asked, his tone leaving no room for her to try and argue.

Hermione frowned for a moment but rested her head on his chest. She was getting a bit worried about him, about them. Harry had been acting strangely for several months now. He always seemed to be off in another world. Hermione didn't think it was because he was a Death Eater now. She had certainly seen the Dark Mark on his arm, and he had told her a little bit about it. Memories of the initiation made him visibly shudder, and Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to know. Either way, he refused to tell her.

The problem wasn't that he wasn't spending time with her. In fact, he seemed to be attempting to be around her more. If anything was suffering from lack of time together, it was her relationship with Neville and Ron, but they just passed it off as usual Hermione studying. But Harry almost never spoke with her anymore, and he didn't let her speak much. He seemed completely content to just sit with her on the couch or in curled up in one of the beds.

Hermione was worried, but she wasn't exactly sure what to be worried about. She had heard plenty of times from Lavender and Parvati about relationships where their boyfriends had stopped talking. But in those instances, talking had been replaced with snogging until the relationship just ended. Harry and Hermione didn't snog any more or any less than a normal couple. But Hermione didn't understand what the problem was. She had tried asking Harry if something was bothering him, but he always brushed off her concerns, saying it was simply pureblood business and nothing for her to lose sleep over. It wasn't an answer she was ever pleased with, but even after all the years she had known him, Hermione still didn't have a way to force Harry into anything he didn't wish to do. Persistence didn't help.

It wasn't until much later in the year that Hermione was able to figure out what was wrong with Harry. It was perhaps blind, jealous rage, built up from seeing him one too many times in the hall with Sabina Nott, that aided her in sitting Harry down in a chair and demanding him to come clean with her. It was also perhaps that same jealous rage that caused Hermione to throw him back into the chair when he stood to retreat—although as a Black he would not call it that—back to the Slytherin common room.

"What's going on, Harry," she asked with a slight hiss. "What's happened to the trust? You used to tell me about the things that were bothering you, like when your father married Adrienne or before Atria was born. You've even told me some things about the Death Eaters. What's so different now?"

"It's nothing for you to worry about," Harry said roughly. "It's pureblood business, family business, and you are not a part of my family, Muggle."

"Despite the fact that I've heard almost every other bit of family business," Hermione retorted. "I just want to know whether or not you trust me."

Harry nearly snorted. "That ought to be obvious by now. Of course I trust you."

"Then why won't you talk to me," Hermione asked. He just frowned. "Harry, you have to understand how difficult this is for me. I know you're a man's man," she said in a sarcastic manner, causing Harry's frown to deepen, "but I'm a woman. Women need to talk, especially about our relationships. If something's going wrong, we need to find another girl and talk with her about it. I can't do that. No one can know about us, and I know that. So I can't talk to anyone because there's no reason I should have to keep a relationship a secret." Her shoulders dropped. "Can't you at least appreciate that?"

Harry flicked a piece of lint from his pants. "I could," he said simply.

"Dammit, Harry, I am three seconds from jinxing you to China," Hermione said shrilly as her fingers twitched, eager to hold her wand. Harry merely arched a brow.

Hermione let out a cynical laugh. "You don't trust me," she said, cutting Harry off before he could speak, "no, you don't. If you did, you would tell me what the problem was. But for some reason you've lost trust in me. So, should I trust you anymore? Should I think you're maybe using me for something? Maybe for a little side action? You can't take me out in public, so I'm just what you use on the side. That Nott girl's perfectly acceptable to your family, isn't she?" Hermione couldn't hold back a jealous snarl.

Harry's disinterested expression suddenly turned cold and he stood. "Don't start with that, Muggle," he growled. "When have I ever treated you like that at all? I've never done anything to disrespect you in such a manner."

"So is that why you're always around that Nott girl," Hermione accused. She was being irrational, she knew that, but she was frustrated and fed up. "I'm not blind, you know."

"I've never done anything with her," Harry said lowly. His eyes were practically glowing with fire.

"How can you expect me to believe you," Hermione asked. "I don't think you've been honest with me all year. Ever since summer you've been acting strangely. If you don't want to be around me, then just say it. If you'd prefer to have a girlfriend your father will like, then say it. If you can't stand me because I'm a mudblood—"

Harry stood from his chair, towering over her. "She's my fiancée," he yelled. Hermione gasped and her hands flew over her mouth. "My father and Mr. Nott both agreed on it." Harry hadn't actually meant to tell her, but he oddly felt better for having done it. Hermione stared at him breathing heavily. She opened her mouth as if to respond but quickly shut it. She narrowed her eyes and sneered at him. Her cheeks were quickly turning red, and her hair was practically alive with electricity. She stormed past him and into her room.

Harry expected to hear it slam and turned when it didn't. Then he could hear the rustling of her drawers. He walked into her room. "Hermione, what are you doing?" She bluntly ignored him as she shoved several sets of clothes and her books into her bag. She grabbed her wand from her bedside table and walked past him out of the room. "Hermione," Harry said as he followed her, "stop. What are you doing?" He reached out and grabbed her arm.

Hermione spun around, her eyes alight with fire and her wand less than an inch from Harry's nose. As she had never so much as dyed his hair in her most angered state, Harry was shocked and dropped her arm. Hermione took the opportunity to stomp from the common room.

When Hermione burst into the Gryffindor Tower, several people jumped clear out of the armchairs. Hermione quickly scanned the room. Then she turned and walked up the stairs, slamming her feet onto each as hard as she could. The door nearly flew off its hinges as Hermione entered the seventh year boys' room. Dean and Seamus were quick to slip by her and down into the safety of the common room. "Hermione," Neville asked cautiously as he eyed the other two Gryffindor's retreating backs, already wishing he could follow.

Ron noted the bag hanging over her shoulder filled with clothes. "What's wrong?"

"I can't stand him," Hermione screamed, flinging her bag to the floor. Both boys were greatly surprised to see textbooks fly out and land ungracefully and crumpled by the furnace.

"Who," Neville asked.

"Black," Hermione growled. "Harry Black is a complete prat. He's such a narcissistic, self centered, egotistical prat! I've never met anyone—! I swear, I could just—!" She screamed again in sheer frustration.

"Hey," Neville said walking up behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders. "Calm down, Hermione. Take a deep breath."

"Right," Ron said warily. "Close quarters with that Slytherin just got to you. Stay in the Tower for a couple of days and ride it out. You'll be fine."

Hermione wiped furiously at her eyes. She couldn't ever recall a time she had felt so angry and so betrayed. Harry had just been using her. She was just some forbidden piece of fruit, just something to do until he was ready to grow up and get married and make more little pureblooded babies. She had been stupid to think that someone like Harry could ever really care about someone like her. She was stupid for still being in love with him.

* * *

It was some weeks before Harry was finally able to corner Hermione and talk to her again. She had been soundly ignoring every owl he'd sent her. It was a miracle in itself that she had allowed all the prefects to leave their meeting room before she realized that Harry was also there. She stood and began to walk to the door, but Harry snapped it shut and locked it. Hermione glared at him. "We need to talk," he said.

"There's nothing to talk about," Hermione said. "I get it. You don't want to be with a mudblood you can't even be seen with. Fine."

"I don't have a choice in the matter," Harry said.

Hermione chuckled. "Right," she said. "Image is everything with the old families."

"My father decided this," Harry said. "I never gave any consent to marrying her."

"Of course," Hermione said as though she were merely humoring him.

Harry frowned. "God dammit, Hermione, would you stop that and listen to me," Harry growled.

Hermione blinked. Harry didn't curse, at least not in front of women. He was being serious?

"It's another one of the old traditions, arranged marriages. Everyone in my family has an arranged marriage, my mother and father, my grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles. Atria will have one. When her intended turns seventeen, it will be announced. That's the way of things. I don't know why I forgot about it," Harry explained.

"Your father picked out your wife for you," Hermione asked.

"When I was still a baby," Harry said. "It's the way of things. When Father announced mine, I just didn't want to think about it. I don't have any desire to marry Sabina. But it's going to have to happen, and I just wanted to be with you and without that as long as I could."

"Harry," Hermione said, "I'm not going to be—"

"A mistress, I know," Harry said. "I wouldn't ask you to be one. I just wanted to hold onto it while we still could."

"Do you mean all that," Hermione asked.

"Hermione, I—I love you," Harry sighed. "Salazar only knows why, but I do. If there was some way I could get out of this arrangement with Sabina, I would. But the only ways would either bring my family great shame or I'd have to kill her." Hermione's eyes widened, but before she could protest, Harry chuckled, "But you'd never have that."

Hermione sighed. "Your family is so backwards," she muttered. Then she smiled at him. She stepped forward and hugged him.

Harry wrapped his arms around her tightly. He kissed the top of her bushy head. "So I am to assume that everything is all right for now," he asked.

"Well, I am still angry with you for not telling me," she said. "This whole fight could have been avoided if you had just sat me down and talked to me."

"Right," Harry said. "Lesson learned." They remained embraced for several more minutes before Harry asked, "Done with N.E.W.T.s?" Hermione nodded. "Good, let's head back to the common room."

"Oh," Hermione exclaimed, "I can't. I have to go to the headmaster's office. He wanted to see me." Harry raised a brow. "And I'm late too. I'll see you in the rooms." She reached up and pecked his cheek before running out of the room.

After reaching the stone gargoyle, Hermione dug around her bag for the notice from the headmaster. It contained the password. She cursed when her searched turned up futile. She thought about going to find a professor to seek the password, but she remembered that Fred and George Weasley claimed the password to Dumbledore's office was always a candy of sorts. "Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," she tried. The statue remained motionless. "Blood Pops. Chocolate Frogs. Sugar Quills. Licorice Bites. Jelly Slugs?"

The gargoyle sprang to live and hopped away from the door to reveal the ever-winding staircase that led to Professor Dumbledore's office. Hermione stepped on and was brought up. She knocked on the great wooden door and was permitted entrance. "You wanted to see me, Headmaster," she asked.

"Ah, yes, Miss Granger, please come in," the old man said merrily. He motioned to the seat before his desk, and she took it. As she had only been inside the headmaster office once or twice, she was still very amazed with the large assortment of interesting objects he owned. The portrait of a former headmistress smiled warmly at her, and she returned the greeting before looking back to the aging wizard. "How did your exams fair?"

"Oh, they were lovely, sir," Hermione said sincerely.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Not many would use that word to describe the N.E.W.T.s," he said. "In fact, I believe I've only heard one other student say such a thing, a bright, young muggle-born witch, rather like you, Miss Granger."

Hermione blushed. "Thank you, sir," she said.

He smiled behind his long beard and crooked nose. "Now, I suspect you are quite curious as to why I've called you in here today," he said. Hermione nodded. "I have already had this similar discussion with Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom, after gaining permission from their respective guardians, but, of course, yours are not quite as involved as theirs."

Hermione was beginning to feel confused. "Perhaps you have heard, Miss Granger, of the Order of the Phoenix." Hermione's eyes widened and darted over to the magnificent bird perched beside Dumbledor's chair. She nodded. "The Order has been fighting diligently against Voldemort—" Hermione shuddered "—and his Death Eaters for many, many years now. It is perhaps due to this constant effort from many talented and dedicated witches and wizards that he has not succeeded in his goals of domination and destruction."

"You are an extremely bright and talented young witch, Miss Granger. I believe that whatever you desire to do with your life will lead you very far indeed. I will not pressure you, Miss Granger, but I would like for you to at least consider becoming a member of the Order. We could use someone of your talents," he said.

"You—you want me in the Order?" Hermione was shocked.

"As I have stated before, you are a talented witch, and a witch with a head for justice and fair treatment, if I was correctly interpreting the idea of SPEW," he chuckled. Hermione smiled, always proud of her creation. Dumbledore continued, "Again, do not feel pressured, Miss Granger. If you don't feel comfortable joining, no one would ever think less of you. It is a very large step, especially considering you still have a week until graduation."

Hermione wrung her hands together. "Sir, could I maybe think about it for a while? Talk it over with my parents?"

"Of course," Dumbledore said, standing to let her know she was free to leave. "Take all the time you need, Miss Granger. The invitation will never expire."

"So what did the old blood traitor want," Harry asked as she arrived back in the common room. Hermione took a moment to frown at him, but Harry just shrugged.

Hermione took a deep breath. She knew this was going to be a long conversation. "Sit down, Harry."

Harry arched a brow. "Merlin, was it that serious of a conversation," he asked, then his eyes widened. "He doesn't know about us, does he?"

"No, no," Hermione said waving her hands. "Just sit. There's something we need to talk about." Harry sat on the couch, watching her nervously as she took a seat next to him. "I don't think there's an easy way to tell you this, so here it is. Dumbledore just invited me to join the Order of the Phoenix."

"No," Harry said immediately. "No, you aren't going to do it."

"Hold on a minute," Hermione said firmly. She grabbed his arm and showed him the Dark Mark. "You're a Death Eater."

Harry jerked his arm back and covered the Mark. "So? I had no choice in the matter."

"Would you have done if your father hadn't made you," Hermione asked. Harry was silent. "You were raised to think that serving You-Know-Who is what's right. That's why you joined up with him. But I was taught to believe that people like Dumbledore are right. Why should you be able to fight for what you believe but I can't?"

"No," Harry said. "Do you realize what this would do, Muggle? If you join that, it puts us even more against each other. We started as a pureblood against a muggle, now it'll be Death Eater against Order member. It'll only be a matter of time before it's you against me."

"Harry, we won't fight," Hermione said. "We've been on different sides of this war the whole time, but it hasn't ever caused us to fight."

"Don't be so naïve," Harry snapped. "We'd meet in battle one day, and we'd have to fight. And I could never throw a spell at you that would hurt you. My father would notice." He bowed his head.

Hermione reached forward and hugged him. "Harry, everything you've thought was impossible we've made work. What's so different about this?"

Harry chuckled, "For being so smart, Muggle, I'm beginning to see how stupid you really are."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, I want to do this. I want to make a difference in this war. I want to stand up for other muggle-borns. I want to protect my family. I told Dumbledore that I wanted some time to think things over and talk to my parents, but I will be joining soon."

"There's nothing I can do to stop you short of throwing you into a vanishing cabinet, is there," Harry asked. Hermione shook her head with a smile. "I don't like this at all. It's going to blow up in our faces. But, if I can't stop you, at least promise to be careful and fight as little as possible."

Hermione kissed his cheek. "I'll try," she said.


	27. Discovered

**Chapter 27**

Hermione smiled as she shook hands with numerous wizards and witches. She, along with Ron and Neville, had just been initiated into the Order of the Phoenix. Many of the Order members had then gone to the Weasleys' home, where Molly and Arthur were hosting an initiation party for the three friends.

Hermione struggled for air as Mrs. Weasley gathered her into a crushing hug. Mr. Weasley was able to pry her off, and she moved to take hold of her youngest son. Ginny grinned at her. "Excited," she asked.

"You can't imagine," Hermione said.

Ginny nodded. "It's pretty intense," she said before lowering her voice, "I'll be joining up next year. Of course, can't let Mum hear that yet, or else she completely lose it."

The girls glanced over to where Mr. Weasley, the twins, and Bill were all trying to save Ron from Mrs. Weasley's hug of death. The mother was sobbing about her baby boys all leaving her. "Completely," Hermione asked, a brow arched.

"You haven't seen anything yet, Hermione," Ginny said. The girls chuckled. As they moved over to the refreshment table to collect butterbeer, more Order members greeted the girls.

One woman with electric blue hair and purple eyes grinned widely at them. "Wotcher, gals," she said brightly.

"Hello, Tonks," Ginny returned the greeting.

Hermione was taken aback by the sheer colorfulness of the woman. The man standing beside her seemed almost her polar opposite. His skin was so pale that it would not have been inaccurate to call it colorless. Although he was still fairly young, his pale brown hair was streaked with grey. His robes looked to have seen many years of wear. His golden eyes were perhaps the most interesting thing about him. It had been several years since Hermione had seen Remus Lupin, who had served as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in her third year. He extended a hand and said, "Congratulations, Hermione. Welcome to the Order."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said. Remus chuckled and informed her that she didn't need to be so formal anymore.

The group conversed lightly for a couple of minutes before Tonks, twirling a strand of her hair, said, "You know, I don't think I match." She screwed up her face and suddenly, her blue hair, which had been brushing her shoulders, became a bright pink mess sticking up in odd directions.

Hermione gaped. "Wicked," Ginny said simply.

"Works better, right," Tonks asked pointing at her pink Weird Sisters shirt.

Remus chuckled and explained to Hermione, "She a Metamorphmagus." Hermione was impressed. One did not meet a Metamorphmagus everyday. She could easily see why Tonks was an asset to the Aurors and Order. She didn't need potions or spells to disguise herself.

"Oy! Rem," a deep voice called. Hermione looked up to see a couple walking up to them. She held back her gape. "I've had an idea," the man said, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

The woman rolled her eyes and swatted at him. She turned her bright green eyes to Hermione and smiled. "Hello, Hermione," she said. "Glad to have you with us. I'm Lily Potter."

Hermione was beginning to feel overwhelmed. The Potters were famous. Neither were Aurors, but both were something like legendary fighters for the Light side and, along with Dumbledore, took up the top spots in You-Know-Who's hit list. They were the only people to have come across the General and live to tell about it. Hermione had read Charms books by Lily Potter. The woman was simply brilliant. "It's such an honor to meet you, Mrs. Potter," Hermione said.

James laughed loudly, and Lily smiled. "Please, Hermione. Lily will do just fine. Mrs. Potter makes me feel old."

"Oh," Ginny laughed. "Someone's getting vain." Lily sent the younger red head a mock glare. Ginny then took off to find Olivia, leaving Hermione to converse with her now fellow Order members.

Lily and Hermione began a discussion about Charms, while James attempted to convince Remus to join him in some adventure. "We're too old for this, Prongs," Remus said.

"Nonsense, Moony," James said with a wave of his hand, "You're never too old to stick thumbtacks on Snivelly's chair."

"James," Remus said with a minor growl.

"Ooh," James cooed, "getting a bit grouchy, are we? Is it that time of the month? Got a furry little problem?"

"James," Remus hissed, noticing that Hermione was watching them intently. "Quiet."

"Oh, what," Tonks said, "she's part of the Order now. The rest of them all know. Hermione, Remus here is a werewolf."

Hermione was unsure of what to think. Every manner of book and talk described werewolves as ruthless and bloodthirsty. But Remus was exceptionally nice. "Don't believe all the gossip you hear, Hermione," Lily said, almost as though she was reading Hermione's mind.

* * *

As months went by, Hermione was finally feeling the real weight of war. She was having a time balancing out both her job and Order business. She had yet to be in an actual battle, something Harry was thankful for, and instead focused her time and energy in spell research projects. All her reading and "useless trivia," as Ron called it, were really paying off now.

Hermione blew a stray strand of hair from her eyes as she weaved through Diagon Alley, arms overloaded with bags of potions ingredients and spell books. She would be pulling a very late nighter, she knew. Operation Unicorn was just a few good tweaks away from completion, and the sooner, the better.

Against better judgment, Hermione stopped off at the ice cream shop for a quick rest. Not a second after she had placed her bags into the wire framed chair the entire Alley shook violently. Hermione was thrown to the ground, as were several others. She winced as she scraped her knees and palms. Looking up, she could see smoke billowing into the sky, and screams were growing from around the corner. Up in the smoke, the Dark Mark began to glow brightly, the snake weaving itself from the skull's mouth.

Death Eaters were attacking the Alley. People were running past Hermione to get away. Harry had told her to run if ever she found herself in an attack.

The man who owned the shop ran outside and noticed Hermione still sitting on the ground. He reached over and pulled her to her feet. "Death Eaters, girl," he yelled over the noise. "Run!" Hermione nodded and took off in the direction of the smoke and screams. "Not that way!"

Hermione's heart thundered in her chest as she neared the battle area. The battle had hardly been occurring for more than three minutes and it already looked like a nuclear bomb had fallen. A flash of red shot towards her, and Hermione screamed and ducked down. She cast a shield around herself and took a deep breath. She zigged and zagged through the debris, avoiding black cloaks and firing spells. Upon spotting an unmistakable shock of pink hair, Hermione dove into the tattered remains of a shop. "Hi, Tonks," she said shaking dust from her hair.

"Wotcher," Tonks replied as she fired a Stun Spell. "Didn't know you were on battle call."

"I'm not," Hermione said deflecting a curse. "But I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop in."

"Well, we can certainly use the help," Tonks growled. "There's a ton of them out there, plus the General."

"Sirius Black is here," Hermione gasped. Just her luck. Her first battle was going to be her last.

"Stay calm," Tonks instructed. "If you keep a cool head, a witch of your talents can certainly get through this."

"Right," Kingsley said from Tonks's other side. "We need to get out of this building straight away." The girls nodded. "On my mark, we break for that group." He pointed off into the short distance where a considerable number of Aurors were holding fort. "Ready? Go!" Kingsley fired a blinding light at the Death Eaters who had been shooting spells at them. Tonks pulled Hermione after her as the three fled from the ruined shop. They made it with surprisingly no damage.

Among the group, Bill Weasley noticed Hermione. "Not quite the place for you," he said. Hermione shrugged and fired a round of spells.

A couple of long minutes later, James Potter jumped over a large chunk of wall. "Everybody down!" he yelled just as a powerful wave of magic came soaring behind him. Bill pulled Hermione to the ground. James went flying across the street and slammed through a window.

A group Death Eaters emerged calmly over the wall. The one who wasn't wearing a mask Hermione immediately recognized as Sirius Black. That could only mean that one of the Death Eaters near him was Harry. He had told Hermione that Sirius tended to keep him nearby. The Death Eaters descended the wall and moved towards the shop James had been thrown into. Bill was still hovered over Hermione, leaving little chance that Harry would spot her.

"Shit," Bill muttered. "I hate to do this to you, Hermione, but we need to help James. Come on." He pulled her up, and they snuck around the rubble. Bill positioned them carefully out of sight but with a good view to shoot. Hermione's hand shook as she clutched tightly to her wand. "Steady, Hermione," Bill said. "We shoot, but not to kill. If Sirius gets hurt, James—" He stopped.

"James what," Hermione asked.

"Forget it," Bill muttered. "On the count of three, stun them. One, two, three!" Hermione and Bill stuck out their wands and sent their spells. Hermione struck one of the Death Eaters to Sirius's side, and Bill hit one walking towards them. They both ducked back down behind the relative safety of the rock.

Sirius frowned at the location the sparks had emerged from. Rodolphus had been stunned. "Get him out of here," he commanded to a new recruit. The young man hastened to do the General's bidding. "Harry," Sirius said motioning to the rubble pile.

Harry smirked under his mask and said, "_Reducto!_" There was a scream and the rubble shattered into tiny pebbles. The Death Eaters turned towards the two who had dared to shoot at them. Harry immediately recognized the red haired man as a Weasley, which one he could never be too sure as there were about thirty of them. He was hunched over a woman trying to protect her. When they looked up to face their adversaries, Harry froze. It was Hermione.

Sirius huffed, "Ah, Weasley, coming to Potter's aid, no doubt? And you've dragged the little mudblood girl too. Such a waste. I heard she was rather intelligent." Hermione clung to Bill's arm as he glared down the Death Eaters. Sirius smiled nastily as he drew his wand. He flung a spell at them, but Bill was able to move fast enough to evade it.

"Attack them, Hermione," he yelled. There was no running from this. Hermione stumbled as she gripped her wand, shooting any spell she could possibly think of. No one noticed exactly when, but James had climbed back out of the shop and was aiding Hermione and Bill in their fight.

A Jelly-Legs jinx smashed into Harry, and he fell to the ground, losing his mask. Draco was quick to provide the counter-curse for his cousin. Harry nodded at him as Draco helped him to his feet. They quickly moved back to fight, Draco sending a round of spells at Bill. Harry turned and came face to face with Hermione. Both froze.

"Kill her, Harry," Sirius said from behind him as he watched the secluded battle. He frowned at his son's hesitance. "She's just a mudblood girl," he growled, "kill her." Harry's wand arm shook. He lowered his wand.

Sirius's frown deepened. His grey eyes swept back and forth from the girl to his son. What was going on here? Harry wouldn't hurt the girl, and she seemed reluctant to harm him either. The strange looks they were giving each other—!

Sirius's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "No," he whispered.

"Father," Harry turned to him, "I—"

Sirius's eyes narrowed and flashed dangerously. Harry fell silent. He raised his own wand and it began to glow a frightful green. "Father, no!" Sirius ignored him and flung the Killing Curse. "Hermione!" Harry flung a spell that by some miracle managed to beat his father's, flinging Hermione to the ground and out of harm's way.

Sirius stood stalk still for a near minute. Finally reaching over, he grabbed hold of his son's arm tightly. He sent an explosion of orange sparks into the sky. All around Death Eaters Apparated away. Sirius locked furious eyes with Hermione as he too disappeared, taking Harry with him.

Hermione dropped hard to her knees and began sobbing. Those who remained alive on the battlefield slowly began emerging from behind safe points. Bill came up to Hermione, a deep gash on his cheek, and attempted to comfort her. "Hey, it's going to be all right, Hermione," he said. "You made it. You're alive." Hermione nodded, shaking all the while as she attempted to calm herself.

James limped over to them, a frown etched on his face. "She hurt," he asked. Bill shook his head. "Right. She'll be upset for a while though." He ran a hand through his dark hair. "The Burrow's got a good defense on it right now, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Bill said. "Mum's always got the wards up to date. You know her."

James nodded. "Get Hermione to the Burrow right now. Then find her parents and bring them there too."

"Her parents," Bill asked. "Why?"

"Just do it, and fast," James said. "I'll send more guards later." Bill looked immensely confused, but he took hold of Hermione's arm and Apparated away.

* * *

As Sirius and Harry came tumbling out of the fireplace and into their parlor, Sirius threw his son to the ground. "WHAT WAS THAT," he thundered.

"Daddy," Atria squealed in surprise and fright.

"OUT," Sirius yelled. "GET OUT!" The little girl began to cry. Sirius rounded on Adrienne, who had been watching her. "Get your daughter out of here now!" With wide eyes, Adrienne gathered the girl into her arms and fled from the room.

Sirius turned back to Harry. "Explain yourself, boy!"

Harry pulled himself to his feet. He had never seen his father so furious before. He wasn't sure if Sirius's calm or explosive anger was worse. He just knew that he had never—and probably would never—been in so much trouble. "Father, I—I don't—"

"You don't what," Sirius asked. "You don't want to follow orders? Out on the front you are not my son, you are not a Black, you are a soldier for the Dark Lord, and you are to always obey his orders! Why did you not kill the girl?"

Harry remained silent. Sirius narrowed his eyes. "You called her by her name, as though you were familiar with her." Harry bit his bottom lip. "You didn't want to hurt her because you've befriended her?" Harry lowered his gaze.

"No," Sirius whispered. "It's more than that, isn't it?" Harry held back a wince. They were discovered. The secret was blown. His father was going to lose it and kill her.

Sirius stormed forward and grabbed Harry's arms. "Tell me right now," he demanded, "how far has this relationship gone? How long?"

"Years," Harry pushed out. "I met her before Hogwarts."

Sirius sneered. "This certainly explains your disrespectful behavior towards Sabina, pushing back the wedding date." He shook his head. "Part of the blame lies with me. I should have sent you to Drumstrang where it is acceptable. That doddering old fool Dumbledore has poisoned your mind. You weren't even aware of it."

He released his hold on Harry and began to pace about the room. Harry watched nervously at the calculating expression forming over his father's face. "Kreacher!" he suddenly yelled.

The ancient House Elf entered the room, bowing at his owner. "Yes, Master?"

"Take my son up to his room and seal the windows and doors. He is not to leave unless I allow it," Sirius commanded. Kreacher nodded and motioned Harry to follow him upstairs. "And take his broom and owl," Sirius added.

It was some hours later that the parlor fireplace roared to life, and Lucius and Draco stepped through. Sirius glared up at them from his seat on the couch. "Sirius," Lucius said cautiously. Sirius huffed. "What happened today?" Sirius began to growl, something that was certainly unacceptable for a man such as him. Lucius and Draco exchanged glances.

Sirius stood, eyes still blazing as he walked up and down the room. "I don't understand it," he muttered. "Harry, of all people, gallivanting around with some common mudblood!"

"Gallivanting," Lucius asked. Sirius sent him a glare. "Oh, God," Lucius said disgustedly.

"Of course, I'll be killing the girl soon," Sirius said. "Her nasty Muggle family too, while I'm at it." Lucius nodded. "I just want to know how this happened!" His eyes fell on Draco.

"Draco," he said, "I want you to go speak with Harry. Figure this all out and report back to me."

Draco nodded. "Yes, sir," he said.

"Kreacher!" The elf appeared. "Allow Draco into Harry's room," Sirius said. As Draco walked out of the room, Sirius growled, "I'm going to set this all straight."

Draco watched as Kreacher removed several spells that were locking his cousin's room. The elf held open the door, bowing for his master's kinsman. Draco motioned for the elf to leave. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Harry was sitting on his bed, eyes locked on the shut window. He didn't look over at his cousin. Draco frowned at him for several long, silent minutes. Finally he exploded, "Are you insane?"

Harry chuckled, "More than likely."

Draco's frown deepened, and he moved into his cousin's line of sight. "I mean it, Harry," he snapped. "Your father is furious."

"You think I don't know that," Harry snapped back.

Draco ran a hand through his hair. He grumbled under his breath. "For God's sake," he said, "did it have to be a mudblood?"

"This wouldn't have been an issue if it hadn't been," Harry reasoned.

"It would have," Draco said. "Anyone less than a respectable Slytherin woman would have aroused Sirius's anger. You're promised to Sabina, remember?"

Harry sneered, "Easy for you to say, Draco. You got lucky Pansy was chosen for you and you fancied her before knowing."

"Maybe so," Draco relented. "But Granger?"

Harry frowned.

"There were plenty of people you could have gone off with, even other mudbloods. You could have tried the Weasley girl, she's at least good looking and isn't completely insufferable."

"Shut up, Draco," Harry growled. "Don't talk about Hermione like that."

"Hermione," Draco sneered. "You call the mudblood by her name?"

"Don't call her that," Harry roared, his fist raised, ready to strike his cousin.

Draco stared at him in wonder. "You love her, don't you," he asked after a couple of minutes. Harry pursed his lips. "You seriously love her. This wasn't just to see if you could get away with it, it wasn't just a challenge. You really care about her."

"Of course I care about her," Harry muttered, dropping back onto his bed and burying his face in his hands. "I directly disobeyed my father's orders on the battlefield and prevented him from hurting her. It was because of that that Father called the attack off early."

"Harry, listen to me," Draco said sitting beside his cousin, "you have to forget about her. You have to wipe her completely from your mind. If you ever happen to see her again, she's just a nameless face. Your father is going to kill her, and when he does, you can't care."

"I can't," Harry said. "I can't forget her. I've been with her for so long."

"It can't have been that long," Draco said. "I mean, you've only known her for—what—seven years now and up until last year, there's no way you could have spent time with her."

"I met her over four years before Hogwarts," Harry said. "I know you're just going to go back downstairs and tell Father all this—" Draco grimaced "—but it will be nice to finally tell someone. I ran off from Victoria in Diagon Alley one day and went into Muggle London. I found this park, and she was there, and something possessed me to start talking to her. I don't know, Draco. Something about her just kept me wanting to see her. I'd sneak out and fly to her house about once a week. At school we found this sort of secret room to meet in."

Draco was speechless. Harry had been meeting with her for over half their lives? He didn't know what to think. He was definitely seeing his cousin in a new light. Harry's distain for Muggles and mudbloods had never seemed false. In fact, he had joined in regularly with the rest of the Slytherins in ridiculing them. But maybe there had been something off. "You never actually insulted her," Draco realized. Harry nodded.

"You didn't really think this through," Draco said. Harry frowned at him. "Well, you didn't. I meant what I said, your father's going to kill her. He said so before I came up here."

"I know he will," Harry said, standing and pacing up and down his room. "I told that stupid Muggle this would happen, but she's so damn stubborn. She wouldn't listen. But Father doesn't know where she lives or where her parents live. Maybe she's thought to talk to Dumbledore."

"She's not important to the war," Draco said. "He wouldn't have time to cater to her."

"Dumbledore's weakness is in his emotions. He wouldn't let anyone, no matter how insignificant, fall prey to us. And now she's on Father's list. Besides, she's an Order member. They all look after each other," Harry said.

"She's in the Order," Draco asked. "You had Order information and never told anyone?"

"No," Harry said. "She would never tell me anything. And before you start, I never told her anything either."

Draco shook his head. "I don't want to see you unhappy, cousin," he said, "but, and I mean it, you're going to have to forget her. It's over between you two, and it's more than likely over for her. You don't have to love Sabina but—"

"Draco, I need you to do something for me," Harry interrupted.

Draco eyed him suspiciously. "What?"

"I don't care if you go back down and tell Father everything I said about meeting with her and all that, but I need you to do something for me and never let anyone else know."

"Oh, no," Draco said. "No, no, no. I'm not going against your father. He's head of the family."

"You're part of the Malfoy family, Draco," Harry pointed out.

"Half-way," Draco remarked. "Not to mention Father would kill me."

"So don't let him find out," Harry said, a smirk forming on his face.

"Because that worked out so well for you," Draco said dryly. Harry frowned. Draco shot him his own smirk.

"Draco," Harry said seriously. "I'm asking you this as your cousin and best friend."

"Harry," Draco started.

"Please, Draco," Harry said.

Draco frowned. "What is it?"

Harry laughed, shaking Draco's shoulders. "You're the best, mate!"

* * *

Hermione clutched a letter to her chest. For the past week since the battle in Diagon Alley, she had been under the strictest of instructions to remain in her house. Dumbledore himself had set up special wards to protect her and her parents. It had taken only one battle for her to find herself near the top of Sirius Black's list. After the battle, Bill had brought her to the Burrow. She'd been a wreck. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, who still had a couple of days before leaving for Hogwarts again, had done their best to comfort her until James Potter arrived, accompanied by Remus Lupin, Tonks, and Dumbledore himself. Bill came back with her parents, and Dumbledore had explained that Hermione was likely in great danger, as were her parents. He had offered to fortify their home, something the Grangers immediately accepted.

The Grangers had stayed at the Burrow for the night, Order guards posted at the house. No one had actually asked or explained why Hermione was in Sirius Black's line of sight. Hermione had spent days worrying. Sirius knew about her and Harry. Well, she reasoned to herself, he knew that there was something going on, but he might not know the whole story. That all depended on whether or not Harry spilled. Yes, Sirius was probably after her now, but what had he done with Harry?

After a week of waiting and worrying, Hermione had finally gotten a letter from Harry. It said his broom and owl had been taken and that he was under house arrest. He'd had to plead to his cousin to help him communicate with her.

Hermione had groaned aloud at reading that. Draco knew now. Draco's owl had found her. But, Hermione had noted, the owl that had delivered the letter had been a simple brown one, something a Malfoy would never use.

It was because of this letter than Hermione had snuck out of her house late that night. It was because Harry's letter had begged her to meet up that she had wrapped up in a dark cloak and Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. She snuck into the pub, which despite the recent Alley attack, was bustling as ever with activity. She slowly made her way towards the stairs, losing count quickly of all the people she bumped into.

About five feet from the staircase, a hand wrapped around her arm tightly and dragged her up the stairs. For a moment, Hermione was frightened. The person leading her away was shrouded in a dark cloak covering his face. He could have been anyone.

Hermione was pulled into a room and the door slicked shut behind them. She could hear the man muttering spells under his breath, assumingly locking the door and sound-proofing the room. After a tense moment, the stranger removed his hood.

"Malfoy," Hermione cried.

"Granger," Draco sneered in return.

Hermione pushed back her hood, her bushy hair almost bristling with annoyance. "What are you doing here?"

Draco laughed dryly. "You didn't think my cousin would be able to come, did you, with my uncle watching him like a hawk?"

"He might have found a way," Hermione argued back, her fingers tightening over her wand.

Draco noticed the movement. "Put it away, Granger," he said, "I'm not here to fight with you. I'm doing this as a favor to my cousin, who for some ungodly reason fancies you." Hermione growled. Draco rolled his eyes. "Sit down." Hermione stubbornly remained standing, her arms crossed over her chest. "Fine," Draco shrugged, removing his cloak and sitting in a chair.

He crossed his own arms and looked at Hermione, studying her with narrowed eyes. Hermione met his gaze unwaveringly. She lifted an expectant eyebrow. Draco frowned. "What did you do to him?"

"What," Hermione asked in confusion.

"You did something to my cousin to make him become so entranced by you," Draco said. "What spells were they?"

Hermione gaped, "We met when we were seven years old. I didn't know any magic then. I was still just a Muggle." Draco shot her a disbelieving look. "Come off it, Malfoy," she snapped.

Draco smirked. "I think you should be a little bit nicer, Granger," he said. "I'm the only connection to Harry you've got now. I can easily decide not to further disobey and deceive my uncle." Hermione did her best to not show how much his comment affected her.

Draco stood from the chair. He gathered up his cloak. "Harry's fine, for now. He's in more trouble with his father than he's ever been, but only Sirius, my father and I know of this, so he doesn't have to worry about the Dark Lord's fury or the Notts finding out." Hermione frowned.

"He wants you to stay out of battles and the public in general. He's guessing Dumbledore's gotten you some safe place to stay by now. Stay there, and don't venture out. If you have the bloodtraitor protecting you, then there's a chance Sirius won't be able to get to you. Now, cover your face. You've been gone long enough."

"Draco," Hermione said, surprising the Slytherin and herself, "I—thank you."

Draco frowned. "I'm not doing this for you."

"I know," Hermione said, slipping out the door and down the stairs.


	28. Capture

**Chapter 28**

"Sirius," Lucius said forcefully. His cousin bluntly ignored him, continuing to pour through numerous battle plans. Lucius frowned and ripped the papers out from under the younger man's quill.

"Lucius," Sirius growled nastily, his eyes flashing.

Lucius did not back down. "You are being reckless," he said. "I can well understand your anger at that mudblood girl. I can understand wanting to kill her. But you must act more rationally."

"I am being rational," Sirius snapped. "She contaminated my son, and I will make her pay for that. I'll do it by any means, just as soon as I can find her. That damned old blood traitor has hidden her away somewhere."

"Snape doesn't know where they put her," Lucius asked.

Sirius shook his head. "Dumbledore saw to hiding her personally. Snape's hardly worth his place in the Order. He hasn't provided us with the Potters, he hasn't killed Dumbledore."

"He's the one who heard the Prophesy," Lucius said.

Sirius frowned. "The Prophesy is now irrelevant," he said. "It is as though it never happened. Harry will not betray his master." Lucius nodded in agreement as Sirius resumed pouring over his documents, running a hand through his hair and causing it to sick up wildly. "There has to be some way to force that little bitch out of hiding," he muttered.

"Sirius," Lucius said sternly, "there are more important matters to attend to in this war. You are the Dark Lord's second in command. You don't have time to pour all your energy into a little revenge scheme."

"The Dark Lord has placed it upon his servants to purify this world and rid it of the mudbloods," Sirius said in a slightly maniacal tone that worried Lucius. "And this one's rather clever. It would be most beneficial for us to have her dead."

Lucius frowned. "Listen to what I'm saying, cousin," he said. "She is not important to the war. By all means, kill her, but do it when she crosses your path next. Don't waste time seeking her out." Sirius only snorted in reply.

After a few minutes, he stood from his desk, wand gripped in his hand. "What are you doing," Lucius asked. He was becoming seriously concerned for his cousin. Sirius had hardly slept a wink in weeks. All of his time was spent doing either the Dark Lord's work or searching intently for the little mudblood who had corrupted his son. Sometimes, Lucius thought, insanity seemed to run in the Black family. It seemed to finally be catching up to Sirius.

Sirius exited his office, hair still standing up, a mad gleam in his eyes, and a wicked grin across his face. "I haven't blown anything up in a near week. I'm going to call for a raid."

Lucius followed Sirius to the parlor. "Are you sure that's wise," he asked. "You are not fully yourself right now."

"I am perfectly fine," Sirius snapped. "I've survived just as long in this war as you have. I don't need you telling me how to conduct myself during a raid." Before Lucius could protest further, Sirius disappeared into the bright green flames of the fireplace.

Sirius was immediately granted permission from the Dark Lord to conduct a raid. Sirius presented his left arm to his master, that he might call his other servants to him. Sirius did not finch at the searing pain that shot up his arm when the Dark Lord pressed the tip of his wand to the Dark Mark. The other Death Eaters were quick to appear before their master. Sirius stood at attention beside the Dark Lord as they assumed their positions, Nagini slithering around his feet.

The raid was quite general, the purpose only to cause destruction. Everyone knew the drill, Apparate into a given area, kill and destroy anything and everything they saw until the retreat signal sent up. They were sent to Hogsmeade, the second most attacked location in Britain. As usual, the destruction quickly pilled up. It was hardly five minutes before the town began to look like a wasteland.

Sirius threw spells relentlessly. The muscles in his back were tense as he unleashed hell upon the village. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, pushing him past usual stamina. From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of red. Turning, he was met with the form of Lily Potter. He caught her eye and sneered nastily. She was a mudblood, not the one he currently wanted, but she would do for now.

Sirius threw a powerful blast of magic at her, but the woman was quick to sidestep it. Sirius zeroed in on Lily, paying no mind to the other Order members or Aurors as he shot unyielding spell after spell at her.

Lily had no time to produce so much as a Shield Spell in her own defense. She was only able o dodge Sirius's onslaught of spells. Lily ran twists and turns through the streets, diving behind any object that could absorb or block her from the brutal force of Sirius's attacks. Hardly a thought could run through her head. Lily vaguely noted that she was running on pure adrenaline and primal survival instinct.

Sirius was hitting both Auror and Death Eater in his attempts to get at Lily. She had dodged almost everything so far, but Sirius knew that she could only outrun him for so long. And he would not leave Hogsmeade until he saw her body dead on the streets.

Finally, Sirius managed to knock her off her feet, slamming her into the wall of a shop. He stood over her, both panting heavily. "This time, Lily Potter, it's over," he said, raising his wand. Lily swallowed thickly as she watched the tip glow green.

Lily cried out in surprise when Sirius suddenly slumped unconscious to the ground. Lily stared at his limp form before glancing up to see James, his wand still in the air. He wasted only a second before dropping to the ground beside them. "Shrieking Shack," he said grabbing hold of Sirius's robes. Lily nodded, and they Apparated inside the old house. Quickly, the Potters ran through the tunnel. They emerged on the grounds from under the Whomping Willow, not wasting a second before sprinting for the castle.

Back on the battlefield, Lucius cursed. The Potters had just Apparated away, Sirius unconscious with them. Quickly, Lucius sent up the retreat signal. The Death Eaters Disapparated back to Riddle Manor. Lord Voldemort raised a skeptic brow at Lucius, who had immediately thrown off his mask and was breathing heavily. "Back so soon, Lucius," he asked coldly.

Lucius drew in a deep breath. He desperately hoped the Dark Lord would not take this piece of news out on him. "We have a bit of a problem, my lord," he said.

"Oh," Voldemort asked lightly.

"The Potters captured Sirius," Lucius said. There was no use sugar coating it.

"What," Harry cried from behind his kinsman.

Lord Voldemort looked nearly as concerned. "You are sure," he asked, and Lucius nodded. Voldemort turned furious red eyes to his hordes of Death Eaters. "Who was supposed to be guarding him," he asked dangerously.

Knowing it was useless to hide from him, Mulciber and Jugson stepped forward, bowing low. "We were, my lord," Jugson said shakily.

"And why did you not shield him from the Potters' attack," Voldemort hissed, murder radiating in his voice.

"He-he got away from us, m-my lord," Mulciber stammered. "He was ch-chasing Lily Potter. He had her cornered, but James Potter attacked from b-behind. W-we tried to reach him, my lord."

Voldemort growled and dispatched both men with the Killing Curse. "We must recover Sirius Black," he said in a tone that left no room for failures. He had spent too many years honing Sirius into the perfect weapon against the Potters and Dumbledore. Sirius had captured Harry from them when even he had failed. Sirius had become a vital asset to Voldemort's cause. He needed his general back. The risk was far too great to not put immense efforts into his recovery.

After he had dismissed his Death Eaters, Voldemort was surprised to see Harry Black had remained behind. The young man bowed low as he inched closer to the Dark Lord. "My lord," he asked.

"There is something you wish to discuss with me, young Black," Voldemort asked.

"My lord, will we be able to recover my father," Harry asked. Voldemort mused that the young man, although nearly twenty years old, sounded like a frightened child. He supposed it made sense. He knew how attached the boy had become to his adoptive father.

"It will be a great priority, Harry," he said. "Your father is important to this war effort, more than you know."

"If there is anything I can do, my lord, I will do it. Any mission, anywhere. I'll kill the Potters with my own hands if I can," Harry vowed.

Voldemort laughed aloud at the sheer irony. He had always intended either himself or Sirius to kill Lily and James Potter. He hadn't ever entertained the idea that their own son would do them in. As he thought about it, it was rather silly that he hadn't considered it before now. The misery they would feel as they died would be immeasurable. "I think, Harry," he said, "that if they have harmed your father, I will give you that honor."

Harry bowed lowly, his eyes dark. "Thank you, my lord."

Voldemort stroked Nagini's head as she slithered up the arm of his throne. "Yes, and now, young Master Black, you are in charge of your family until your father's return. You have business to attend to," he dismissed the boy. Harry bowed again and swept from the room. A smile of pure delight stretched over Voldemort's thin face. Perhaps, this situation would yield extremely positive results.

When Harry emerged from the fireplace into the parlor, he found most of his family members waiting for him. Atria immediately ran into his arms and cried, "Harry, what's happened to Father?"

Harry wrapped his arms around his sister in a comforting embrace. As Lucius had decided before, it would do no good to sugar coat the matter. "Dumbledore's got him," he said.

Bellatrix, who had not been on the raid, demanded, "What happened to him?"

"The Potters stunned him and Disapparated somewhere," Lucius said. "His guards failed to do their jobs while he was chasing down the Potter woman. The Dark Lord has taken care of them."

Narcissa looked livid. "You were there, Lucius. You saw. Could you not do something to protect my cousin?"

"I was more than several yards away, with several Aurors between," Lucius said stiffly.

"But they have Father again, Uncle Lucius," Atria said, sounding betrayed. "Who knows what horrible things they'll do to him this time! You should have done something."

"I understand that you are upset, Atria," Regulus said to his niece. "But understand that things like this happen in battle. Don't place such heavy blame on Lucius. The Dark Lord has already declared that great efforts will be made to bring him back. Ow, not so tight," he snapped at the House Elf who was wrapping a large gash on his arm.

"Zen see to it zat zese efforts are successful," Adrienne said.

"Shut up, Adrienne," Harry said bluntly.

"Pardon," Adrienne asked aghast.

Harry frowned at his stepmother. He was not in the mood to deal with her. "While Father is away, I am in charge of this family, and while I am in charge of this family, I am not required to tolerate you. So stop parading false concern for my father. You care only for the continued home, money and power being the Lady of Black Manor gives. Were divorce practiced among the Old Families, I'm sure Father would have gotten rid of you ages ago."

Adrienne's cheeks flushed red, and her eyes blazed. She opened her mouth to retort, but Narcissa interrupted, "The _head_ of this family has spoken. You would do well to hold your tongue." Adrienne turned furious eyes to Narcissa, but the blonde women returned the glare with more force than Adrienne was able to handle. Narcissa looked positively dangerous as she stared down Adrienne, as did the other older members of the family. She had decided years ago that she greatly disliked her cousin's wife. It was nice to finally be allowed to say something.

Adrienne turned on her heel and stormed from the room. Bellatrix sent a scowl after her. She had long since felt that Adrienne did not conduct herself in a manner as was proper for a Black, something Bella could not forgive. Atria tugged on Harry's hand. He turned his grey eyes down to her. "Harry, what will we do about Father?"

"We're going to get him back," Harry said. "I don't care what I have to do, but we will help Father to escape from the Order."

Narcissa was quick to bring Harry and Atria down into the kitchens for tea. Lucius turned to Bellatrix as soon as thier kinsmen were out of earshot. "This does not bode well, Bella," he said. "We worked too hard to secure his place."

"It's been almost twenty years," Bellatrix said. "I don't think even that old fool Dumbledore would be able to do any sort of reversal."

Lucius frowned and shook his head. "We must take into account that although it was the master who preformed the spell, it was still only a Memory Charm. People have been known to regain their memories under the care of hospital staff. Who is to say Dumbledore could not do this to Sirius?"

"The master's spell is plenty strong enough to hold against Dumbledore," Bellatrix said confidently. "There are also the false memories we planted in his mind." Lucius still looked very skeptical. "All we can do is keep faith and hope they don't lock him away somewhere where we can't get to him."

"If we have lost Sirius, things are not going to go well," Lucius warned.

* * *

Sirius awoke groggily. He blinked bright light from his eyes and attempted to sit up. Surprisingly, he found himself secured firmly in place. Looking around, he was unable to recognize the room he was in. He was confused for a couple of seconds before recalling the raid in Hogsmeade. He had cornered Lily Potter and was less than a second away from killing her. But then, everything had gone black. He cursed aloud. He had been Stunned. The sound of his voice caught the attention of an older woman. She poked her head into the room, casting nervous eyes upon him. She quickly left after Sirius sent a nasty glare at her.

Some minutes later, Dumbledore entered the room accompanied by the Potters. Sirius was unable to hold in the animalistic growl at the sight of three of his most hated enemies. He struggled to remove himself from the bed on which he was lying.

"That will do you no good, Sirius," Dumbledore said. Sirius paid him no mind. "You will tire yourself out eventually," Dumbledore continued casually. This only angered Sirius more.

"I demand that you release me at once," Sirius yelled.

"You know as well as I that I will do no such thing," Dumbledore said.

Sirius frowned. "I will tell you no information. I will not turn against my master. I will kill each of you slowly and painfully as soon as I can get up," he promised. The other three didn't move, so Sirius opted for a different approach. He smirked. "So what will you do, erase all my memories again?"

"We've never erased a single memory of yours, Sirius," James said. "We've told you that."

"Yes, by capturing and holding me prisoner you've really proven your trustworthiness," Sirius said dully.

Dumbledore asked, in an almost jolly manner that caused Sirius to growl, "How are you feeling, Sirius? Any side affects of being Stunned? Any injuries?"

"Because you show such concern for prisoners," Sirius snapped.

"Certainly," Dumbledore said. "I would not deny medical treatment to anyone, not even an enemy." Sirius glared at him. "I shall take by your defiant silence that even if you were injured you would refuse my help. For now, I suggest a bit of rest. You look tired." He motioned for the Potters to follow him from the room, stopping at the door to mutter something to the nurse.

"Well, Professor," James asked immediately, "what do you think?"

"It was sheer luck that you were able to Stun him, James," Dumbledore said.

"But we have him now," James said excitedly. "We can do something about what Voldemort did to him!"

Dumbledore frowned under his long white beard. "If it can be done, it will take extremely great efforts. I can't predict the outcome," he said slowly.

"Professor, we have to try," Lily said.

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, my dear," he said. "We certainly will."

A bell rang through the halls, and numerous students poured out from their classrooms. "Mum! Dad!" James and Lily turned around to see Olivia pushing her way through her classmates. She hugged her parents and adjusted her book bag, a relieved expression playing on her face. "Are you all right? We could hear explosions from the village."

James smiled down at his daughter. "Everything's fine. The Death Eaters pulled out. Do you have class," he asked.

"No, lunch and then a study hall," Olivia said.

James looked over to Dumbledore, and the old man nodded. "All right," James said. "Come with us." Olivia trailed after her parents and surrogate grandfather up to the headmaster's office.

After the door clicked behind them, Olivia asked, "Okay, what's going on?"

"We got him," James cheered.

Olivia raised a brow and looked to her mother. Lily smiled and elaborated, "We finally got Sirius back, dear."

"Sirius Black," Olivia asked. "You captured the General?"

James nodded excitedly. "We're holding him down in one of the private Hospital Wing rooms. We're going to reverse all that mess that Voldemort did on his mind."

Olivia looked to the headmaster. "Can you really do that," she asked. "I mean, that's almost twenty years of brainwashing he did on him."

"It will not be easy," Dumbledore said. "Nor will it be a short ordeal. I have much to research before I can even begin to attempt any efforts on his mind. This will be a very delicate issue."

"Wow," Olivia said blowing a strand of hair from her face. "So if we turn the General, can we turn Harry?"

James ran a hand over his beard. "Harry's very dedicated to Sirius. If we can get our Sirius back, there might be a chance that he can talk Harry into it," he said.

"Unless he's more dedicated to Voldemort," Olivia said darkly. "You know, he wasn't exactly the nicest bloke while he was here."

Lily and James exchanged concerned looks. They had perhaps entertained the idea before, but as Harry's parents, they certainly dreaded that he would show unconditional loyalty to Voldemort.

* * *

It was a couple of weeks before Dumbledore had felt he had done enough research to begin his attempts to uncover Sirius's lost memories. It was going to take far more than Occlumency and Legilimency, even for someone as learned in those skills as Dumbledore, to even begin to reverse the effects of Voldemort's spell. Sirius had been moved from the Hospital Wing into one of Hogwarts castle's numerous guest rooms. He was constantly guarded and nearly always physically restrained.

Sirius glared hotly at Dumbledore. The older man sat in a chair across from him, a pleasant smile formed underneath his beard. Sirius would have loved nothing more than to wipe that smug smile of his face. "What do you want," he asked nastily.

"Sirius," Dumbledore began, "I know that you do not believe us, although we have attempted to inform you several times over the years, you were once fighting on our side of the war. You ran away from your family when you were sixteen and went to live with the Potters. Voldemort had your memories erased and retrained you to fit his purpose of destroying those you once held dearest."

"A Black has no use living and fighting with mudbloods and boodtraitors," Sirius snapped.

"That is the shortsighted and prejudice views they have programmed into your mind," Dumbledore said.

"To each his own, then," Sirius said with a smirk.

Dumbledore shook his head. "You were once a good friend and courageous hero," he said. "And for the memory of the man you once were, I will try with the fullest of my ability to bring you back."

Sirius had been well trained in Occlumency both growing up and in his retraining for the Dark Lord. He knew before Dumbledore even began that the old man would be attempting to delve into his mind. Sirius concentrated all his physical and mental strength and ability into setting up mental wards and walls to push him out. Although Sirius was strong, he knew better than to think he could possibly outmatch Dumbledore. The aged wizard had over a hundred years of experience on Sirius.

Sirius felt the old man prodding into his mind. Sirius fought to push him out. Dumbledore redoubled his efforts. Sirius struggled to hold him at bay. Every secret of the Dark Lord's that Sirius knew was at Dumbledore's disposal if he successfully invaded his mind. Sirius would not allow himself to betray his master.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sirius was vaguely aware of sweat pouring down his face and the pressure of his clenched jaw. He didn't know how long he was able to fight off the old man before Dumbledore forced himself into Sirius's mind. He didn't know how long Dumbledore probed around his thoughts and memories. He only knew when he formulated his next conscious thought that it was dark outside. Sirius attempted to shift against the bonds that constantly held him down but found he could hardly budge a muscle. His entire body felt like lead, and his clothes were soaked in sweat. His vision was fuzzy, but he was able to make out Dumbledore standing over him. Sirius barely had the energy to give him a proper glare.

"Just a small potion, Poppy," he was saying, "I don't want to overdo it for his body." The words were even hard for Sirius to make out. He wasn't able to protest when the Hogwarts nurse poured a liquid into his mouth, massaging his throat to force him to swallow. It was another few seconds before Sirius was lost in darkness again.


	29. Small Miracles

**Chapter 29**

Dumbledore's progress on Sirius's mind was slow. But he had not expected anything different. It was foolish to think that he could break through nearly twenty years of brainwashing in mere hours, days, or even weeks.

Dumbledore stood over Sirius's bed, his wand held lightly in his hand. Sirius lay still, his eyes closed. Dumbledore was unsure if he was merely asleep or unconscious. The almost daily probes Dumbledore had done on Sirius's mind the first few weeks had quickly exhausted the younger man, even to a physical extent. He remained unconscious longer after each session, and even after awakening he hardly had any energy.

Dumbledore sighed. It was to be another long afternoon. With a flick of his wand, Sirius opened his eyes. The dull grey orbs, that had lost much light in the past few weeks, narrowed at the sight of the aged man. A frown soon followed. "What do you want," Sirius grunted. He held back a cough.

"I think you quite know what we will be doing today, Sirius," Dumbledore said. "But I think we will take a slight change in procedure."

Sirius frowned. Dumbledore turned and picked up something from the table behind him, moving the large bowl to the bedside table. Sirius immediately recognized the large stone bowl as a Pensieve. If he arched his neck, he could see the swirling memories inside. "I trust you know what this is," Dumbledore said. Sirius's expression pointedly portrayed Sirius's general indignation at the stab to his intelligence. "Of course," Dumbledore said. "You refuse to listen to spoken word, but perhaps if we can show you."

Sirius soon found himself in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The hall was filled with students and faculty and was decorated festively with banners displaying the Hogwarts Seal. Sirius could only assume, what with McGonagall leading up a group of young students to the front of the hall, that it was the Sorting. Sirius attempted to move, but found that he was still magically bound. He could feel Dumbledore standing over his shoulder.

"Do you remember your Sorting," the old man asked. Sirius did not respond. Truthfully, he didn't. He had a few flashes of something, but it didn't matter. He knew he was a Slytherin. "They have told you that you were in Slytherin," he continued. "But watch."

Sirius almost growled at him, but instead kept his grey eyes focused on the singing Hat. The Sorting began immediately after. There were only two names called before Sirius's. He watched as he was called up. It was odd to see one's self, nearly thirty years younger and just a child, walking through the parted crowd of students up to the stool. His younger self held his head high, just as was expected. He sat on the stool as though it was a throne, and the Hat was placed into his head.

The Hall was silent for nearly a minute. Sirius frowned. Not many would notice it, really, probably no one in the hall, excluding Narcissa, seated at the Slytherin table, did notice, but his younger self looked uncomfortable. He was gripping the knees of his pants tightly. Sirius frowned. Why was this taking so long? What was the Hat saying to him?

Suddenly the Hat yelled out for all the Hall to hear, "GRYFFINDOR!" Sirius, both older and younger, lost all color in his face. The eleven year old was frozen to the stool and had to be gently pushed up by McGonagall.

"You were a Gryffindor," a voice over his shoulder said.

"I am a Slytherin," Sirius spat back. "I am and I was."

Dumbledore sighed. "I have other things to show you."

They were suddenly brought to another place. Sirius looked around. It was an office of sorts, filled with numerous items. Had Sirius not been a prisoner of the Order being forced to visit its head's memories and subject to continual brain probings, he might have found many of the possessions interesting. There were portraits of past headmasters of Hogwarts along the walls. Sirius recognized his ancestor among them.

A slightly younger Dumbledore sat behind the large desk, a beautiful phoenix perched on his chair. He was thumbing through a stack of parchment and looked up in amusement when the door flew open. Sirius looked to the side to see two boys, probably around fifteen years old, being pushed inside by a fuming Professor McGonagall. The boys were both dark haired and dressed in Gryffindor robes. One had messy black hair and hazel eyes gleaming behind thin glasses. The other had shining, smooth hair and a perfect aristocratic appearance.

"You can't prove a thing," the fifteen-year-old Sirius Black proclaimed.

"Innocent until proven guilty," James Potter added.

"Black, Potter," McGonagall growled lowly. "Address the headmaster properly."

James walked up to Dumbledore and grasped his hand, shaking it, and greeting him, "Hallo, gov'nor," as Sirius tusked, "Come on now, Professor McG! You can't prove that we've done anything. We've got an alibi. Just asked Peter."

"I hardly trust Mr. Pettigrew more than you, Black," the older woman said. "And I certainly don't doubt that you would have given him a story to repeat back to me. Furthermore, you and Potter are the only students at this school who would ever stoop to such low levels!"

"What have they done now, Minerva," Dumbledore asked.

"The suits of armor are singing love ballads to the girls and challenging the Slytherins to duels of honor," she said exasperatedly. James and Sirius exploded into loud laughter. Dumbledore himself cracked a smile. "It is not funny, boys! This sort of behavior is juvenile and pointless and certainly against the rules."

"For once, I agree with McGonagall," the elder Sirius said. He would have crossed his arms had he been able to move.

Over his shoulder, Dumbledore sighed. "Let us move on," he said.

They were thrown into another memory. It was Harry's birth. James and Sirius cooed at the baby in Lily's arms as their former headmaster congratulated them. "So now you try to sway me by showing me my son," Sirius said to Dumbledore.

As was usual with these excursions, Sirius didn't know how long Dumbledore wasted his time. He was subjected to numerous memories before finally the aged wizard pulled them from the Pensieve. Sirius frowned at Dumbledore. "That was pointless," he said.

"You have now seen what you used to be like," Dumbledore said, "before Voldemort took you and changed you."

"First," Sirius growled, "you will not speak my master's name. Second, anyone with a brain cell can brew up a set of false memories. I would never conduct myself in such a manner as what you showed me. I am a Slytherin. I am a Death Eater. I am a Black."

Dumbledore considered Sirius's words. Yes, it was possible to brew false memories. In fact, he believed that had been something Voldemort would have seen to in his brainwashing of Sirius. But he would not give in. He had promised James, Lily, and himself that he would do everything in his power to resort Sirius to the way he had been all those years ago. Obviously, he would have to continue using both the Pensieve and Legilimency.

It was months into the process. Dumbledore was steadily becoming more forceful yet gentle in his mind probing. Sirius's mind was completely exhausted from his attempts to block Dumbledore's attempts, but Dumbledore knew that his former student's state was ideal for breaking through. But Dumbledore did not want to destroy Sirius's mind, and if he was not extremely careful, that would likely happen.

Dumbledore sighed sadly as he looked down on Sirius. For the past week, Sirius hadn't even had enough energy to frown at the older man. He merely gazed up at him through half lidded eyes, grey orbs completely lifeless. Dumbledore hated having been the once to cause such a thing in a man like Sirius. From the first moment he had seen Sirius, Sirius's eyes had always burned with fierce emotions, loyalty, pride, determination. It felt like a sin to take that away from those eyes.

Even as exhausted as he was, Sirius still attempted to fight back. Due to his weakened state, Dumbledore was easily able to break through and into his former student's mind. He pushed and prodded, attempting to undo the damage the Blacks and Voldemort had done. He treaded carefully. Sirius was unstable.

Dumbledore concentrated. He had come so far, too far to lose the boy—no—the man. Dumbledore still thought of Sirius as the too young boy who had fought face to face against Voldemort, who had overcome his dark family's prejudice and befriended all those he had been taught to hate, and who had proven himself as a hero in more ways than he could even know. Although he had been forced to convince himself that that boy was dead to face against Sirius as Voldemort's General, Dumbledore had never let Sirius's memory die. He could not do that to the boy.

Something was drawing Dumbledore. It was locked deeply in the boy's mind, deeper than Dumbledore had ever ventured before. He pushed his way towards it. It felt right.

Dumbledore pushed hard against the barrier. There was a darkness to it. Dumbledore knew this was what he had been looking for. This barrier, along with Sirius's relentless will, had been what was keeping Sirius on the dark side. Dumbledore had already broken through Sirius's will. He just needed to destroy this barrier. He pushed into Sirius's mind with a newfound determination. His efforts doubled, he could feel physical strain on his own body to break through Voldemort's spell.

He suddenly felt a sensation much akin to glass shattering around him. It was clichéd, perhaps, but accurate. He emerged from Sirius's mind, wary of what had just occurred. Looking down, he saw that Sirius was staring at him through squinted eyes, as though his vision was fuzzy. His expression seemed confused. "P-professor," he asked before his eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness.

* * *

Hermione Granger stared over the top of her book in shock. She and her parents gaped at their entry hall. Someone had knocked on the door. Although Sirius Black had been captured by the Order a couple of months previous, Dumbledore had still thought it wise to keep the protection on the Granger house intact. No one should have been able to get to the front door of the house. Warily, Hermione grasped her wand and walked to the front door. "Hermione," her mother hissed.

Hermione shot her mother a look over her shoulder, warning the two Muggles to run if there was any trouble. Hermione wrapped her hand around the doorknob. She took a deep breath and ripped the door open, thrusting her wand forward. "Whoa, whoa," a surprised male voice cried.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief and removed her wand from the tip of James Potter's nose. "James," she breathed, "Lily, you two nearly gave us heart attacks."

Lily smiled. "I'm sorry, Hermione, dear," she apologized. "We weren't anywhere near a fireplace."

Hermione nodded and ushered the senior Order members inside. She tugged at the hem of her stomach exposing t-shirt and adjusted her yoga pants. She greatly looked up to the Potters, both as experts in their fields of knowledge and as heroes of the war. She felt terrible for looking like such a slob in front of them. "Please, make yourselves at home. I'll get some tea." She walked back into the parlor a few minutes later with a tray. The Potters politely took the offered cups as Hermione slipped on a sweatshirt. "So," Hermione asked, "what can I do for you?" She was certain they weren't here on social business and wondered if they would be taking off the wards from the house.

The older couple was immediately serious. Lily glanced at James, as if she was still unsure about something. James, however, had that confident spark that he always seemed to carry. He leaned his forearms against his knees as he regarded the young woman in front of him. "You're a clever girl, Hermione," he began. Hermione blinked, unsure of where he was going. "I'm sure you've questioned, at least to yourself, why after your first battle I wanted you and your parents immediately protected."

Hermione nodded. After the battle when Sirius had found out that there was something going on between his son and she, James hadn't wasted a second getting Hermione to a safer location. She had at first thought that it was just instinct that James had gained after years of fighting the Death Eaters. But once she had had time to think about it, James had seemed to know something. He had been so busy fighting Death Eaters, how could he have had time to pay attention to her during the battle? But she hadn't questioned it. Questions would have led to people wondering why Harry had stopped his father from hurting a Muggle-born witch.

James ran a hand over his beard, as if wondering how to place his words. Bluntly, he asked, "What's your relationship to Sirius's son, Harry?"

Hermione blinked, but immediately answered, "We were both Head Boy and Girl in our last year. Other than that, his group hated mine."

James narrowed his eyes. "Hermione," he said. His tone actually frightened Hermione, but she forced herself to relax. There was no way James could know anything. She and Harry had always been so careful. And James wasn't around either of them on a regular basis. "Hermione, we have Sirius in custody. If you tell me, there's no way he can get to you."

"Hermione," Lily said gently, "if we tell you something about Harry and Sirius, will you tell us what we want to know?"

"I don't know what you want me to tell you," Hermione continued to play innocent.

"We'll try this anyway," James said. "I'm guessing that all you really know about Sirius Black is that he's Voldemort's general and head of his family." Hermione refrained from stating all the traits about Sirius that she knew from Harry. "But Sirius's life for a long time now has been a lie."

Hermione blinked in confusion. "A lie?"

James nodded. "The Black family has always been Slytherin, since the founding of Hogwarts. No one had ever been anything else until Sirius went to Hogwarts. He was a Gryffindor."

At this, Hermione laughed aloud. "Sirius Black, _the_ Sirius Black, a Gryffindor," she asked.

James nodded. "Not that he was pleased with it at first," he continued. "His family never forgave him. I gave him a hard time about it at first. We met on the train ride up and immediately hated each other. It was what our families had always taught us to do." He ran a hand through his hair. Hermione thought he looked remorseful.

"Well, it was close to the end of our first year that something happened. It made Sirius and I gain a respect for each other. And that respect turn into friendship. Since then, he was my best friend, my brother."

Hermione raised a skeptical brow. Sirius Black and James Potter, best friends? It made no sense at all. Sirius was constantly trying to kill James. Hermione was about to protest James's statement when she remembered something Bill had said during that battle in Diagon Alley. He'd told Hermione not to hurt Sirius, and he'd almost said something about James but had cut himself off. Hermione knew that there was no reason for Bill and James to be conspiring to trick her. So why would James be adding Sirius into his Marauder group?

Hermione suddenly gasped. "Padfoot," said, pressing her hands to her face.

James and Lily both blinked in surprise. "What did you say," James asked.

"How do you know that name," Lily asked. "How could you?"

Hermione drew in a deep breath. "You don't speak of Padfoot," she said. "You don't talk about him because of what happened to him, because he's a Death Eater now."

Lily gripped James's hand. "Well," she said slowly, "not quite. I guess we should finish the story." She looked up at James.

"First, how did you know that name," James asked.

"The Map," Hermione said. "Fred and George Weasley gave it to Ron after they graduated. Olivia told us a little bit about it. She's got it now."

James nodded. "She told me that she'd found it," he said. "Continuing, Sirius and I were best friends for years. When he ran away from his family in our sixth year, he stayed with my family. When Lily and I got married, he was the best man. When our son was born, we named him the godfather."

Hermione opened her mouth to ask, but Lily silenced her with a raised hand, as if say later. "Sirius used to be an Auror," she said. "He was one of the best. He was in the Inner Circle of the Order with us. He was probably the most outspoken person I've ever met against the old prejudices. He hated the Dark Arts with everything that he was. But his family and Voldemort wanted him to be on their side. Except for being in the Order, Sirius was the perfect example of everything the Old Families were striving to create. One day, they captured him. He was gone for months. There was no sign of him anywhere. None of our spies had any information. We were beginning to think he was dead."

James frowned. "We didn't," he insisted. "He showed up at a Ministry function dressed as a Death Eater. He killed the minister. We figured it out then. Voldemort had wiped his mind clear and retrained him as a Death Eater."

"They brainwashed him," Hermione asked.

James nodded. "He's been at the top of their ranks ever since," he concluded.

Hermione was in shock. It seemed unbelievable. But what cause would James and Lily have to lie to her about something like this? There was no reason. But then why would they have need to tell Hermione all of this? She wasn't close to the Potters, nor was she high in the ranks of the Order. She asked.

Lily smiled slightly. "Leaving it at that does make it seem strange to tell you," she said. "But there's more to the story." Hermione nodded to show she was listening. "It was many years ago," Lily started, "when you were only about two or three years old. You're the same age as our son, after all." Hermione didn't ask. She had the feeling she was about to be told.

"It was almost two years after Sirius got captured," James said. "Lily and I had taken our son to a nearby park to play. Sirius came and took him. He almost killed him, but then he decided to bring him to Voldemort."

"You see, Voldemort had been after the baby since before he was born," Lily said.

"After a baby," Hermione asked. "What threat could a baby pose to him?"

"A large one," Lily said. "There was a prophecy that stated that the Dark Lord would be defeated by a child whose parents had defied him three times, and only by that child. This child would have powers that the Dark Lord didn't and would use that to defeat him. Neither could live while the other survived. The baby was to be born at the end of July. That left either our son or Neville Longbottom."

"Neville," Hermione cried.

"It's not Neville," Lily said. "Voldemort targeted us. He made our son the one the prophecy spoke of."

"This prophecy was accurate then," Hermione asked.

"Voldemort knew half of it because of a spy," James said, "but Dumbledore heard all of it. The Divination professor made it."

"Trelawney," Hermione cried. "That old bat?"

Lily chuckled. "I see you have the same love for the subject I did," she said. "But the prophecy was legitimate."

Hermione looked crestfallen. "Then he's won," Hermione said. "You-Know-Who's already won, and we're just pushing back the inevitable."

"Not at all," James said firmly.

"But you said Black brought your son to You-Know-Who," Hermione said.

"The Sirius we knew is still inside the General somewhere," James said with such ferocity that it left Hermione with no doubt that he believed this about all else. "Sirius loved his godson more than life itself. He brought him to Voldemort, but he couldn't kill him or let Voldemort do it. Somehow, Sirius was able to convince his master to let him adopt the baby. Voldemort let him do it, under the circumstances that Sirius always keep him loyal and never let him know he was really a Potter."

Hermione's heart began to hammer in her chest so loudly that she was sure they could hear it. What they were saying, there was no way it was true. It couldn't be. "You mean Harry—"

"Biologically, he's our son," Lily said.

Hermione shook her head. "No," she said. "There's no way that's true. Absolutely no way."

"Hermione," Lily said. "Think about Harry. Think about him and look at James." James reached up and removed his glasses. Hermione stared intently at the older man. She imagined him without his beard. She imagined his face with fewer lines. She imagined his eyes were grey. He and Harry were exactly the same. She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "You see," Lily said.

It was several minutes before Hermione was able to speak again. "Harry is going to be very angry," she said softly.

"Hermione," Lily asked, "please tell us the truth about you and Harry. He stopped Sirius from killing you. Why?"

"He—we met when we were seven," Hermione spilled. "We've been friends ever since. He'd visit me once a week late at night by flying to my house. At Hogwarts, we found this room to meet in. In sixth year, we—" She stopped short, blushing heavily.

"Secret dating," Lily asked with a smile. Hermione nodded.

James leaned forward and took hold of Hermione's hand. "Hermione, we have Sirius, and Dumbledore is doing everything he can to break Voldemort's hold on him. Now, we need your help getting Harry to the Order."

"I—he'll never come," Hermione said. "He's so angry with the two of you."

Lily blinked her moist eyes. "If you and Sirius talk to him, there's always a chance. You're the two people he cares about the most, right?" Hermione nodded. "As soon as we're sure Sirius is back to his old self, we can at least try to get Harry back."

"Have you had any luck," Hermione asked.

"With Sirius," James asked, leaning back in his seat. "Like you know, we got a hold of him a couple of months ago. Dumbledore's been working almost nonstop to uncover his real memories. We think he made a break through a couple of weeks ago, but Sirius has been unconscious since, so we can't be sure."

"Two weeks is a long time," Hermione said softly. James nodded stiffly. Almost as if on cue, there was an eruption of orange light and a beautiful cry. Hermione screamed in surprise. The Grangers ran into the parlor, expecting to see it alight with flames. Instead, they saw a magnificent phoenix perched on the back of the couch.

"Fawkes," Lily asked. She took the note held in the phoenix's talons. Her brilliant eyes scanned the parchment, widening. "James, Sirius is awake." James didn't waste a second before leaping from his seat and throwing Floo Powder into the fireplace. Lily followed, sparing a second to look over her shoulder at Hermione. "Are you coming?" Surprised, Hermione stood and disappeared after Lily in the bright green flames.

* * *

The three Order members were met by Headmaster Dumbledore in his office. The aged wizard considered Hermione for a split second before nodding. James immediately asked, "How long has he been up? Does he remember us now? Is he still in the room? I'm going to go see him."

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop James in his tracks. James regarded him impatiently. "I am not completely sure of what to expect from him, James. He was still extremely groggy. We can't get our hopes too high," he warned.

"Well, let's go find out what's going on," Lily said, she and James walking quickly from the room, Dumbledore following and Hermione bringing up the rear. They entered a hallway that Hermione had been unaware of as a student, but she figured that she was unaware of a good portion of the castle. They entered a room that Hermione was surprised to discover was a sitting room. Actually, she discovered upon further investigation, it was a suite. She hadn't known the castle had had such accommodations, but she decided it made sense for visiting officials and the like. They walked into an adjacent room.

On the bed, positioned comfortably, was Sirius Black. His eyes were closed, and he looked to be sleeping. Madame Pomfrey was watching over him, and at muttered questions from Dumbledore, Sirius opened his eyes. Hermione couldn't pretend to be an expert on Sirius Black, especially considering she had only seen him once, but she was shocked to see how lifeless his eyes were. He looked just a few notches up from dead.

James was the first to approach Sirius. He stepped forward with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. He locked eyes with him, an expression of almost childlike curiosity on his face. Stopping beside Sirius's bed, he asked, "Sirius?"

Sirius looked up at him. He seemed completely exhausted, barely able to shift in the bed. He blinked up at James, his brows furrowing angrily. He glared up at James for several seconds. Just when James was about to step back, Sirius whispered, "J-James?"

James's jaw dropped. "You-you said my name," he gasped. "You remember me?" Sirius arched a brow. "You remember everything?" The tension in the room was thick. The others in the room were hardly breathing. James's heart had stopped. He was frozen. His entire life depended on Sirius's answer. If Sirius was still under Voldemort's spell, his hopes would be dashed, and they would be back to square one. But if he remembered…

Sirius bit his bottom lip and slowly nodded. James's face lit up with more intensity than the sun. He jumped forward and wrapped his arms around Sirius in a fierce hug. Sirius tensed stiffly. He growled, "Get your hands off me, Potter."

James jumped back as though he had been stung. "Sirius," he asked.

Sirius glared back at him, his eyes finally blazing, albeit with anger. Noticing that Lily was about to cry, Hermione grabbed hold of the older woman's hand. She too was shocked. Hadn't Sirius just affirmed that he remembered his previous life?

Sirius shook his head. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After slowly releasing it, he said, "J-James, I didn't mean..." He trailed off, staring intently at his hands.

"Sirius," James asked as he took a seat next to the bed, "what's going on?"

Sirius watched him with slightly narrowed eyes. "I just don't want you to touch me," he said. He began to squirm a bit, as though he were trying to sit up. Lily moved forward to help him. Sirius immediately sent a nasty glare at her, growling, "I said not to touch me!" Lily immediately backed away. Sirius shook his head with a slight groan. He almost looked apologetic.

"Sirius," James said, "I don't understand. If you remember everything, then what's wrong? Why are you acting like this?"

"I'm not acting like anything," Sirius snapped tiredly. "It's just that, well, I don't know."

James tentatively asked, "But you do remember what Voldemort did to you, right?"

"Don't say the master's name," Sirius growled.

James frowned. He looked back at Dumbledore. "He's not back to normal," he accused. He looked back sadly at Sirius.

Sirius looked confused. "The master," he asked softly, almost to himself. He ran a hand over his tired eyes.

"You're still loyal," James said with a disappointed tone.

Sirius was silent for a few minutes before saying, "I was an Auror." James looked up, hope sparkling in his eyes again. "I hated my family," Sirius continued. Then he frowned. "You were my friend."

James almost moved forward again but was stopped by Sirius's renewed glare. Confused and fed up with it, James asked almost angrily, "What is going on with you, Sirius?"

Sirius held his head in his hands, teeth nearly grinding. "Stop yelling at me," he hissed. "Just get out of here, Potter." James's anger dropped. He attempted to apologize. "Potter—James, just go."

Dumbledore stepped up over James's shoulder. "Sirius, I'd really rather you sit and talk with James," he said.

"Well, I won't do it," Sirius said.

"Then will you speak with myself or Lily," Dumbledore asked.

Sirius laughed. "As if you or the mudblood would be any better," he said with a cackle. Then a few seconds later he turned to Lily with a look of utter horror on his face. Lily, who had become quite used to Sirius referring to her as such in the past twenty years, merely blinked back at him. "Lily," he stuttered, "Lily, I—I didn't mean that. I didn't." He buried his face in his hands.

"Sirius," James said, placing a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. Sirius tensed again. James drew back his hand.

Sirius lowered his hands, fists clenched in his lap. "It's just that this is confusing, you know. The first ten years of my life, I was raised to hate you. Then for ten years you were my best friends, and for the past twenty years, I've wanted nothing more than to kill you."

"Sirius," Dumbledore said, "we can appreciate how this feels, but it would be best for one of us to talk with you."

Sirius looked up at James and then over a Lily. His eyes narrowed. "I don't want to talk with any of you. It's too confusing. But I'll talk to her," he said pointing at Hermione.

"Hermione," James asked, almost hurt. "Why?"

"Because the rest of you I knew before and after he did this to me," Sirius said. "On one hand, I hate you, but on the other, you were my friends. But her, either way, I hate her."

Petrified, Hermione grabbed hold of Lily's arm. Reassuringly, Lily hugged the younger woman. "Sirius, will you promise to not hurt her," she asked.

Sirius growled, "I can hardly move. How do you propose I harm her?" He shot an unpleasant glance at Dumbledore. "Besides, you have my wand. I can't kill her."

Hermione hardly felt less assured. She looked up at Lily, who was sending her a pleading look. Hermione could only imagine how all this must feel for her and James. Sirius had been their best friend, and he had been captured and corrupted by Voldemort. She would have died if that had happened to any of her friends, although for some reason it was different with Harry. Harry, their son, who Sirius had also taken from them.

Now that the Potters had Sirius back, they wanted their son too. Hermione and Sirius were middle ground to reaching Harry. They had that in common at least. But Hermione really didn't fancy being left alone with a man who wanted nothing more than to kill her.

"Okay," Hermione said softly. "I'll stay." Hermione took the seat next to Sirius's bed and the older three Order members shuffled out of the room. James hesitated in the doorway for a couple of seconds before closing the door behind him with a soft click. And Hermione was all alone.

The tension in the room was thick. Hermione was sure it was physically trying to suffocate her. She drew back her shoulders, sat up straight, and focused all her energy on being calm and meeting his eyes. For his part, although he appeared endlessly tired, Sirius sat in bed watching her like a hawk. His gaze was intimidating, but Hermione fought the urge to look away. He seemed like the kind of man who might respect that. Sirius might have been uncomfortable, but he wasn't showing a bit of it.

With a frown, Sirius asked, "Are you frightened of me?" Hermione knew he could read her like a book. It would do no good to lie to him. She nodded. "Because I wish to kill you?" She nodded again. He smirked. "I am guessing that they told you what happened," he assumed.

"About how You-Know-Who took you," Hermione clarified. "Yes."

"So why did they drag you into this," he asked.

Hermione bit her bottom lip. She didn't think it was wise to bring up the very reason Sirius was out to kill her, but she had made an unspoken promise to Lily and James. "Because of Harry," she said.

Sirius's face immediately darkened. "My son," he growled, "what did you do to him, you filthy creature?" He didn't look at all apologetic as he had with Lily. Hermione knew that he wouldn't.

"I didn't do anything," Hermione said. "He's always been the one to come to me."

"I don't believe that," Sirius said. "I taught him better." He shook his head. "Not better," he reprimanded himself, "but that's not how I raised him."

"What do you know about it," Hermione asked.

"I had Draco drag the truth from him," Sirius said. "Something about him running off from his nanny and meeting you in a Muggle park. And he continued to see you. Then you," he trailed off for a moment.

"And that's simply what happened," Hermione said. "He's always come to see me, before and after I found out that I was a witch. He's always been the one to make the first step." The two were silent for several minutes. Hermione chuckled. "I can't believe I never noticed how much he looks like James."

For a second, Sirius's eyes lit up with the fiercest fire Hermione had ever seen. He growled low in his throat, and Hermione was sure that if he'd had the strength to move, he would have choked her with his bare hands. Then, just as suddenly, the fire disappeared, and his eyes were dead again. He looked so completely defeated that it nearly broke Hermione's heart. "He does look just like him, doesn't he," Sirius whispered. Hermione pursed her lips, unsure of what she could possibly say. "You know," Sirius continued, "his eyes aren't really grey. It's a spell."

"A spell," Hermione asked.

Sirius nodded vaguely. "He has Lily's eyes, that beautiful green. He should have glasses too. But I corrected his vision. Glasses would have made him look even more like Potter." Sirius clenched his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "God, I took Harry from them," he muttered. "I took him and turned him into a Death Eater."

"You kept him alive," Hermione said. Sirius looked up at her, surprised, as though he'd forgotten she was in the room. "You kept him alive," she repeated. "If anyone else had taken him to You-Know-Who, he would have killed him. You-Know-Who was never able to completely erase your old self. You were still in there, deep down. And you saved Harry."

Sirius bit his bottom lip. "I considered it, for a few seconds. I was so close to killing him. He was just a baby, but I still almost did it."

"But you didn't," Hermione said, "and that's what matters. Even though you took him from his parents, can you see how your reluctance to kill him and desire to raise him is proof that You-Know-Who never had complete control over you?"

"Are you some sort of shrink or something," Sirius asked sarcastically, as though he'd finally remembered to whom he was speaking.

Hermione shrugged. They lapsed into silence again. It was completely awkward. Hermione supposed Lily and James would want her to try and help Sirius through his confusion. "Er—Mr. Black," she asked.

"Sirius," he said immediately. Hermione blinked. "Sirius," he repeated.

"Sirius," Hermione said, "I know that I'm not your number one pick of someone to open up to." He let out a single bark of laughter. "Understatement of the year, I know. And I'm nervous just being in the same castle as you, and you don't even have your wand. But listening to Lily and James tell me about you and seeing their faces a few minutes ago, I can't help but want to make everything right. I can't imagine how I'd feel if something like this happened to one of my friends."

"Every time I saw them, in every battle, even as I was throwing the Killing Curse at them, they always tried to remind me," Sirius said. "I've been trying to kill them for almost twenty years, and they've never thrown so much as a Jelly-Legs jinx at me."

"They're your friends," Hermione said. "They didn't want to hurt you."

"But I've been trying to kill them," Sirius insisted.

"You weren't yourself," Hermione said.

"Does that make it right," he asked. "So I didn't have my true memories. I wasn't under the Imperius Curse. Everything I did, I did of my own free will."

Hermione considered this. He hadn't been forced, but he had been tricked. He had been led to believe that what he was doing was the right thing, that it was what he had been doing all his life.

"It isn't right," Hermione said slowly. "But do you regret it?"

Sirius was slow to answer. "Only half of me does," he finally said. "Only the half of me that feels groggy, like just waking up after a long sleep." He growled. "This is endlessly confusing."

"Just a bit," Hermione said.

Sirius glared at her. "Do I look like I'm in the mood for jokes or sarcasm," he asked nastily. "You have no idea what it's like to look at someone and simultaneously hate him and love him, to want to cut his throat and block the knife from reaching him."

"James," Hermione asked softly.

Sirius buried his face in his hands. "My best friend, brother, and person I hate most in the world," he muttered brokenly.

"I can't say that I understand what you're feeling, Sirius," Hermione said. "There's probably no one who completely understands. All I can say is that I hope time helps. I hope that the more you're around James and Lily, the more you'll see them as you used to, without You-Know-Who's influence clouding your mind. They really seem to have missed you."

Sirius frowned, but he seemed more thoughtful than angry. "It's odd that I've spoken so openly to you about this," he finally said a few minutes later.

"It's like you said, I'm the only one around who isn't confusing you," Hermione said wisely. "And sometimes we have to lean on those we don't necessarily like to get by."

Sirius regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. Then, he surprised Hermione by offering her the smallest ghost of a smile. "Harry would like you," he said. "You're like his mother."

Hermione's nose scrunched and her lip curled in disgust. Crossing her arms indignantly, she retorted, "Forgive me if I take that as an insult."

Sirius blinked in mild confusion. "No, not my wife," he clarified. "I meant the one eavesdropping on the other side of the door."

Hermione jumped in her seat when she heard a scream of surprise from the hallway. "James," Lily's muffled voice scolded, "You said he wouldn't notice!"

Sirius chuckled as James responded, "I figured the Marauder instincts were dull." Hermione then saw a flesh toned string poking out from under the door. She immediately recognized it as one of the Weasley twins' Extendable Ears.

"That's all the world needs," she muttered to herself, "the Marauders and Weasleys joining forces."


	30. Difficult Truths

**Chapter 30**

It had been weeks since Sirius had awoken with his returned memories. Although Dumbledore often said he was coming far along, neither Sirius nor his old friends felt that he was making any progress in dealing with his two personalities.

Remus and Peter had been informed promptly of the situation and had hastened to the castle to visit their friend. They had been overjoyed that his rightful self was back, and Remus especially had apologized for a near straight hour for doubting that they would get him back. Because of the difficulty Sirius was experiencing balancing his mindsets, he had been rather short with the werewolf.

Hermione was still the only one that Sirius didn't have such a hard time around. He had begun to learn to tolerate her better over the weeks, but he still regarded her as little more than the mudblood he wanted to hex into tomorrow. For the first weeks after regaining his memories, Sirius had been forced to sit through several long sessions with Hermione and occasionally Dumbledore, causing the younger two Gryffindors to learn quite a bit about each other, more than they ever really cared to know. Dumbledore had said it was an exercise to help Sirius return to the way he had been before. It was meant to help Sirius remember how he used to regard Muggle-borns.

Sirius had hardly been able to stand being in the presence of his old friends. The strange mix of shame and desire to kill them overwhelmed his very being. They all knew it would take a very long time before Sirius was completely comfortable around them again.

Because Sirius's status was unknown to the Death Eaters, Harry had taken over as head of the Black family. He had also taken over his father's place in the raids, and due to his fury at Sirius's capture, the attacks on both wizarding and Muggle areas were increasing daily. Because Sirius was no longer around to stop him, Harry had reopened his direct communications with Hermione. He had immediately informed her of what the Order had done to his father and had assumed that she was not high ranking enough to have been any part of it or to know where and what had been done with him. Of course, it had been like that in the beginning, but Hermione was under the strictest of orders to not inform Harry of anything regarding his father, most especially her newfound knowledge of his parentage.

It was difficult for Hermione to keep such an important secret from Harry, especially when she could see how worried he was and the violence it was causing. The Potters and Dumbledore had informed her of their plan to eventually bring Harry into the Order, a plan which involved her greatly. But they had all agreed that it was best to wait until Sirius was a little more adjusted to his returned memories.

It wasn't until about two months later that Lily and James came in with Dumbledore and Hermione to Sirius's rooms. Sirius did not rise from his chair to greet them when they entered. Although it had been several weeks since he had regained his memories, the extreme strain Dumbledore had placed on his mind had affected him physically, and he had still not completely recovered. He hoped to be over it soon. As Sirius was a restless man, he couldn't take sitting around all day. He needed to be up and working, even if he couldn't currently fight in his state of mind.

The Order members took their seats, and Sirius eyed Lily and James. They usually did not attend the sessions with Dumbledore and Hermione, and he was usually warned at least a day in advanced when they were coming by.

"How's it coming along, Padfoot," James asked.

Sirius arched a brow. "How do you judge it?"

Lily smiled. "Well, you didn't glare at us when we walked in, so I'd say it's getting better," she said happily. Sirius only nodded in response.

"We are here on very important business today, Sirius," Dumbledore said. Sirius noticed that Hermione was twisting her hands nervously in her lap. "We think it's time that Harry is informed of the situation."

Sirius rested his chin on folded hands. "So, you wish to bring my son, who is blasting both Muggle and wizarding England to pieces, here to the very near prison that holds me captive, thus allowing him a clear shot at those very people who he hates most in the world," he said. "Sounds lovely."

"It's got to be done, Sirius," James said. "Don't you think he deserves to know where you are?"

"Undoubtedly," Sirius said. "I just don't guarantee that he will be pleased with your news. Remember, when last he checked, I was a loyal Death Eater and wanted to murder all of you."

"Well, that's behind you now," Lily said. Sirius did not answer. Lily bit her bottom lip nervously and said, "Well, you're working on it."

Sirius frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No," he said vaguely. "No, I don't want to kill you, Lily." He rubbed his temples as he felt the beginnings of a headache. Although part of him hated to admit it, he was beginning to associate migraines with Lily and James. He knew it was no fault of their own, nor even his, but it did not make the situation any less aggravating. Lily recognized this and said nothing.

Dumbledore continued, "Of course, we will be sending Hermione to speak with him."

Sirius smiled dryly. The poor girl was constantly being tossed around as middle ground in this whole business. She was one of the only people that Sirius did not feel confused around, and she was the only Order member Harry would not hex on sight. She had gone from doing almost nothing for the Order except the occasional research to being greatly involved in one of its most tightly under wraps operations. "You're certainly looking at this whole plan through rose colored glasses," he said, crossing his arms. "You're just assuming Harry won't blast the girl straight to Siberia. He has more of a temper than you give him credit for, and he hates secrets and lies. He's not going to care that she was under orders to keep her gob closed."

Hermione shot Sirius a mild glare. "And I know how to communicate with him better than you give me credit for," she said. Sirius returned her look, and the girl flipped her bushy hair over her shoulder. "Yes, it's going to be a long, difficult conversation, but I think I know him well enough to be able to break this whole thing to him. He will come back here with me, and he won't be hexing anyone," she added cockily as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Lily laughed. "She's got a good hold on her man."

James grumbled beside her. "I don't see how you women do that," he whined. "Is that something that goes along with having only X-chromosomes, like you have to fundamentally have two things, and so men got stuck with Y-chromosomes, and women have the biological ability to command them to do anything?"

Sirius smirked. "No, James, it's just that they can say no to sex. They're rather like camels in that regard."

James shot Lily a sidelong glare. "Damn you, camel woman," he muttered dramatically.

Lily returned the glare. "Be serious, James."

James smiled wickedly as Sirius said, "Well, I guess he could, but then you'll have to take me home with you, Lily."

Lily groaned and slapped her hands to her face. Dumbledore chuckled fondly. Hermione blinked. "Wait, wait, I don't get it," she said.

Sirius grimaced, and James mimicked Lily, slapping his hand to his forehead and muttering, "D'oh!"

About half an hour later, Hermione and Dumbledore left Lily and James behind with Sirius. They headed up to Dumbledore's office. The elderly man ran a long hand over Fawkes's head before settling himself down in to his plush chair. Hermione took a seat opposite his desk. Dumbledore rested his thing fingertips against each other and said, "Now, Miss Granger, when is your next planned visit with Harry Black?"

"His last owl said he might be free on Thursday night," Hermione said. "But it's never a guarantee that he can get away from whatever business."

Dumbledore nodded. "Understandable," he said. "If indeed you are able to meet with him, I think that would be the best time to break the news. The sooner this is taken care of the better. The war has been going on long enough."

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "Sir," she asked. Dumbledore nodded. "Sir, is Harry really supposed to be the one to kill You-Know-Who?"

"It was Harry that Voldemort saw as the threat to his existence," Dumbledore said. "According to the Prophesy, that marks Harry as our hero."

Hermione nodded. "Lily and James told me the Prophesy. What powers did You-Know-Who give Harry? What power does he have that You-Know-Who doesn't know?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard. "That is difficult to say, my dear. I did not see Harry growing up. I did my best to keep an eye on him while he was here, but for all that I could see, he acted in the manner of all the other children of the Death Eaters. You know him far better than I, or any other for that matter. You would be the best to determine what sort of powers those were." Hermione frowned, and Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. "Time will tell, Miss Granger."

"There's something else I've been wondering, Professor," Hermione said.

"What's that?"

"It's about Sirius, sir," Hermione began. "He was an Auror before You-Know-Who wiped his memories, right?" Dumbledore nodded affirmative. "But afterwards he became a Death Eater. Sirius has done a lot of illegal things, but he was never under the Imperius Curse. Sir, what's going to happen to him?"

Dumbledore's expression turned slightly grave. "That is a good question, Miss Granger," he said. "One that I cannot give a proper answer to. There are many factors involved. Yes, Sirius acted of his own freewill, but he was brainwashed by Voldemort and his family. I cannot say for sure what would be decided of his fate, but I can almost guarantee that the Courts will want him thrown into Azkaban."

"No," Hermione said viciously. "That's not fair! It wasn't his fault what happened to him."

"You are right, Hermione," Dumbledore said. "But will the Wizengamot see it that way? You know Sirius personally. You know his friends and family. You know how they would feel to see him thrown into that prison. But what about others? What about those who have lost family and friends because of him? Do you think they will sympathize with what happened to him?"

Hermione frowned. "Sirius wanted to kill me and my family," she said harshly. "He wanted to kill us, and part of him probably still does, all because his son fancies me. But I'm not holding that against him now!"

"I understand, Hermione," the old man said, "but do you think anyone else will?" Hermione looked crestfallen. "I know what you're trying to do here, Hermione. It's very noble of you. And rest assured, when it is finally revealed that we have Sirius back, I will be doing all in my power to clear his name, but nothing is ever a guarantee." Hermione nodded.

"Now," Dumbledore said, changing the subject, "I know we have discussed this before, Miss Granger, but I must remind you, it is imperative that you bring Harry to the castle immediately after you inform him of the situation. Sirius's status still needs to remain a secret."

"I understand, sir," Hermione responded.

"Good girl." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, hands folded and a serious expression playing on his face. "I cannot even begin to describe the seriousness of this mission, Hermione," he said. "There is no greater or important task that I could ever ask of you than to convince Harry to join our side. I do not mean to add extra pressure to you, Hermione, but it would not be inaccurate to say that the fate of this war depends upon your success or failure."

* * *

A few days later, late Thursday night, Hermione sat at her vanity table in her room in her parents' house. She had cancelled her flat lease months ago when Sirius had put her at the top of his hit list. Harry was due to arrive soon for a visit.

Because Lily, James, Sirius, and Dumbledore all knew of Hermione's relationship with the Black heir, Hermione had felt it only right to inform her parents. While on the one hand they were pleased to finally know why she was constantly turning down dates or dinner plans with the young men they tried to set her up with, both the Doctors Granger had been terrified to learn that the man their daughter was in love with was not only a Death Eater, but the son of the man who was out for their heads. They remained wary, despite Hermione's reassurance that not once in over ten years had Harry ever harmed her, but they also respected Hermione enough to allow her to make her own decision on the matter.

After Sirius had regained his memories and had begun to make progress, Hermione had also told her parents that she would be working to bring Harry to the Light side and of his importance to their part of the war effort. Because the Grangers were now safe from Sirius, Hermione had asked them to find some way to remain out of the house that night. She needed to be able to have this talk with Harry with no interruptions. It was going to be difficult enough just having the talk itself.

Hermione stared at her window through the corner of her eye. The old pink curtains were swaying slightly from the breeze created by her ceiling fan. She thought fondly of how she had first told Harry of those curtains when they were just young children. It had already been thirteen years. Time had flown by so quickly yet so slowly. It seemed like forever ago, but she remembered it as though it were yesterday.

Hermione ran a nervous hand through her frizz-plagued hair. It got caught on several tangles. Hermione picked up her brush with slightly shaking hands and raked it through her curls, causing them to poof out further. Grabbing an elastic band, she shoved the mass into a sloppy bun. She began tapping her fingers on the wood of the table.

Harry flew into her room a few minutes late. He landed in his usual graceful manner and propped his broom next to the window. Hermione jumped up from her chair and ran into his open arms. He kissed her soundly. It had been nearly a month since they'd last seen each other.

Harry held her close to him, and Hermione buried her face in the crock of his neck. It was some minutes before he pulled back. A smile stretched over his face. "You look awful," he said, brushing a large chunk of hair that hadn't made it into the elastic back behind her ear. Hermione smiled feebly.

"Thanks," she said dryly. Harry chuckled and kissed her forehead. Hermione was half a second from collapsing into his embrace again, but then she remembered what she had to do. She couldn't let herself stray from her mission. It was important, not only to the general war, but also for Harry as a son worried about his father. She took his hand and said, "Harry, come with me."

She led him out of her bedroom and downstairs, Harry protesting, "Wait, what about your parents?"

"They aren't here," Hermione said. "I told them to leave because you were coming over."

"You told them," Harry asked as Hermione instructed him to take a seat in one of the sitting room chairs.

She went into the kitchen, where she had had water heating up for tea. "Well, your father knows," she answered, placing teacups and bags on a tray. "Don't my parents have that right too?"

"But my father learned by mistake," Harry said. "Neither of us was ready to tell anyone."

"I know," Hermione said. She placed the tray on the table in front of him and poured water into the cups. "But if your family gets to know, then mine gets to as well."

"Fair enough," Harry said, stirring his sugar and honey into the warm liquid. He watched Hermione from the corner of his eye. She was sitting next to him on the couch, her tea clutched tightly in her hands. She was making no move to drink it. Harry frowned. She seemed rather tense. "What's wrong," he asked.

Hermione sighed. It would do no good to tell him nothing was wrong and then immediately spill out all her news. Hermione eyed her father's crystal enclosed scotch resting on the mantel across the room. She was almost tempted to go take a large swig before settling down to tell Harry all she had to say. Instead, Hermione took a sip of her tea and placed the cup back on the tray.

She turned to face Harry, a look of utter seriousness on her face and hands folded tightly in her lap. Harry placed his teacup next to hers and turned to meet her gaze. "What is it?"

"Harry," Hermione began, "what I'm about to tell you is probably going to make you very, very angry." Harry frowned deeply. "I know," Hermione continued. "It's going to make you angry, and a lot of it you probably won't want to believe. But I need you to promise me that you will listen to everything I have to say and then talk to me about it."

"Hermione, what's this all about," Harry asked, his tone darkening.

"It's about your father."

Harry's full attention was immediately seized. Hermione started at the beginning, informing Harry that Sirius had been Sorted as a Gryffindor and had run away from his family at sixteen years old, living with the Potter family until he came of age. She told him that Sirius and James Potter had been the best of friends, closer than brothers. She told him that Sirius had stood best man at the wedding of Lily and James.

That had been Harry's first explosion.

Up until that point, Harry had been staring at Hermione as though she had sprouted five heads and had tentacles growing out her ears. The things she had been saying, of course, hadn't made any sense. Sirius was a Black, and Blacks were Slytherins. He was offended that Hermione would claim he had been a member of that blood traitor House. His father would never befriend that blood traitor and his mudblood wife. His father was above them. And it had been James Potter who had robbed his father of his memories.

Hermione continued to tell him that Sirius had been an Auror and a top Order member, but the Death Eaters had captured him. She told him that the Dark Lord had erased Sirius's memories and that new ones had been concocted by his family. She told him that Sirius had been brainwashed and retrained as a Death Eater.

Harry had exploded again. She was making no sense. His father was a loyal follower of the Dark Lord. Sirius would have never served under those Ministry blood traitors.

But it wasn't until Hermione told him, tears streaming down her cheeks, that she had known where Sirius was for the past months and had been in almost daily contact with him that Harry lost his temper.

"YOU WHAT," Harry roared, leaping up from the couch. His legs hit the coffee table, sending it flying. The china shattered and tea spilled over the carpet. Hermione didn't move to clean the mess. She just stated at Harry with wide eyes. She could tell that it was taking all his willpower to not lift his hand and strike her across the face. He growled threateningly at her, "You knew where my father was, and you didn't tell me?"

"I was under direct orders to keep it a secret," Hermione said. "Your father agreed with Dumbledore's orders."

"My father would never agree with that blood traitor," Harry yelled.

"He was one of Dumbledore's top men before You-Know-Who got to him," Hermione snapped back.

Harry paced back and forth before the fireplace, snorting in a very unaristocratic manner. He ran his hands through his hair, forcing it to stand more wildly than usual. "None of what you're saying makes any sense, Muggle," he said.

"Harry, I've seen your father almost every day. I've talked to him under Truth Serum. I know everything is a little crazy. I could hardly believe it myself at first, but this is all true," she insisted. "You know I wouldn't lie to you about something so important."

Harry turned to face her with a fierce glare. "You've been lying to me for months!"

Hermione clenched her hands into tight fists. "I have not lied to you," she said firmly. "I never once told you that I didn't know where your father was or what was happening. I did tell you that I was sure he wasn't being harmed. That wasn't a lie. No one has hurt Sirius. Yes, he was mentally and physically exhausted from the uncovering of his memories, but no one has made any foul move against him."

"I hardly believe that," Harry said, crossing his arms. "If what you say is true and my father's mindset has been altered, then you have done harm to him. You've changed him."

"Dumbledore brought him back," Hermione insisted. "You-Know-Who and the Blacks altered him!"

"Do not speak so of my family," Harry yelled. He turned on his heel and stormed across the room towards the stairs.

"Where are you going," Hermione asked, standing from the couch and placing her hands on her hips.

"I'm leaving," Harry said simply.

"You aren't," Hermione countered. Harry growled and stomped loudly up the stairs. "You're not," Hermione continued, "not if you want to see your father."

Harry halted. He turned cold grey eyes to Hermione, staring intently over the banister. "What?"

"If you stay, I'll bring you to Sirius," Hermione promised. "But if you leave, I can't guarantee when you'll get to see him next."

Harry eyed her with suspicion. Hermione let out a dry chuckle. "Oh, please, Harry," she said. "This is not some plot to capture you." Harry did not look convinced. "What, you think I stayed friends with you for thirteen years just to now bring you in? Need I remind you, Black, you came to me first."

"Touché," Harry remarked deprecatingly. He drummed his fingers against the banister. "You swear to me that I will see my father unharmed."

"On the lives of my parents," Hermione pledged. After a moment, Harry nodded. Hermione motioned him back over to the fireplace. She cleaned the mess Harry had made before lighting the logs and throwing in a handful of Floo Powder. "Albus Dumbledore's office," she said, disappearing into the green flames.

She emerged in the headmaster's office, Harry hardly a second behind. Dumbledore stood from behind his desk. "Ah, Miss Granger," he greeted. "You are earlier than I expected. And greetings, Mr. Black." Harry growled low in his throat. The old man ignored it and continued, "If you would be so kind, Miss Granger, to escort our guest to Mr. Black's rooms. I shall join you shortly."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, turning and walking from the office. She knew that Dumbledore was calling in James and Lily. Hermione walked briskly through the halls of the castle. Harry's impatience was practically tangible, and Hermione knew he would likely explode again if things did not progress quickly enough.

She followed the well-memorized twists and turns down the halls to Sirius's suite. Knocking before she opened the door, Hermione stuck her head inside. She muttered something that Harry didn't catch and nodded. After opening the door wider, Hermione slipped inside, motioning Harry to follow her.

When Harry stepped inside the room, his eyes were immediately drawn to the blazing fireplace. Seated in the crimson armchair before it was Sirius Black, arms crossed and a small scowl on his face. Harry blinked and cried, "Father!" Without a thought to proper protocol and behavior expected of a young man of his social status, Harry pushed past Hermione and ran to his father, wrapping his arms around the older man in a tight hug.

Sirius grunted in surprise. Harry pulled back and tugged at his father's arm, lifting Sirius to his feet. "Father, are you all right," Harry asked with concern and relief. "You've been gone for months! Everyone has been so worried. Have they harmed you here? You aren't being physically bound. Are there some manner of spells and enchantments that prevent you from being able to leave these rooms? Have they taken you wand?"

Sirius laid his hands on Harry shoulders, holding the younger man out a distance. "Harry," he said, "slow down!" He stood back almost wary of another emotional outburst. "No one has been hurt, there are no spells, and my wand is right here." He held up the thin stick for Harry to see.

Harry blinked in confusion. "If you are not being forcibly held, then why have you not escaped, Father," he asked desperately. "You are easily clever enough to flee from these Mudbloods!"

Sirius regarded Harry for a moment before turning to Hermione. "Are you thick in the head," he asked. "What did you do, girl, walk up and pluck him off the streets?"

Harry felt rather like some child was bashing his head with a toy mallet. Never had he been so confused and bewildered. "Whoa, hold on a minute," he said, shaking his hands in the air almost comically. He looked back and forth from Sirius to Hermione. "You're speaking tolerably to her? I though you wanted to kill her!"

Sirius and Hermione exchanged glances and shrugged. "Only half the time," Sirius said simply. He looked back to the Muggle-born girl. "Are you sure you explained things to him as for the plan, Hermione?"

Hermione almost looked offended. "Well, would you have believed me," she asked smartly. "I think you heard the same story for twenty years without it getting through your skull." Sirius snorted. "I think he needs to hear it from you, Sirius."

"You're on a first name basis," Harry wailed miserably. Hermione gently took his arm and instructed him to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs. She shot a look to Sirius. The older man sat across from his son and retold the story exactly as Hermione had. "I still don't believe a word of this," Harry said after Sirius was done.

Sirius frowned deeply. "Well, start," he snapped. "It's the truth, and now that I remember, you're going to have to except it. Do you need to hear this with Truth Serum too?"

"I'd feel better about it," Harry muttered crossing his arms and looking for all the world like a pouting child.

"You can't be that disposed to Muggles and Mudbloods," Sirius said nonchalantly, "seeing as how you're gallivanting around with one as a mistress."

"I don't gallivant," Hermione said sharply. "Nor am I a mistress. Harry isn't married." Sirius waved her off, and she fumed.

Before Harry could question Sirius or Hermione any further, there was a knock at the door. "Albus, James and Lily," Hermione said to Sirius. He nodded, and she moved to answer the door. Hermione ushered the newly arrive Gryffindors inside and resumed her position beside Harry's chair.

Harry was very shocked to see his father show no emotions to the three people for whom he had always expressed such a venomous hate. He turned to the Potters and could not hold back the low growl in his throat. If Sirius would not treat them with the animosity they deserved, then Harry would do it himself. "What are they doing here," he snarled.

"They have a big part in this, Harry," Hermione said gently as she laid a light hand on his shoulder. Harry recognized the tone of her voice. She was trying to steady him for something. There was more to the story, and he was not going to like it one little bit. Hermione bit her bottom lip and said, "Maybe you should take this one, Sirius."

He nodded as the Potters and Dumbledore seated themselves nearby. Sirius folded his hands over his lap, covering the whites of his knuckles. His jaw was set tightly, and his eyes were dark. This was the part he dreaded. It was a simple matter to tell Harry the truth behind what the Dark Lord had done to his memories. It wasn't pleasant, but it was simple. But this, Sirius had a very long list of painful excursions he would rather undergo.

"Both Hermione and I have told you how important the Potters were to me and I to them before my mind was erased," he began. Harry nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed. "I was best man at their wedding, and when their first child was born, I was named the godfather to the boy." Harry looked ready to interject, knowing that the Potters only had one child and that child was a girl. Sirius held up his hand, effectively silencing him.

"The Dark Lord did not simply pull the Potters' names from a hat to decide to go after them with the vengeance that he does," Sirius continued. "The year before you were born, Sybill Trelawney made a prophecy stating that child who would have the power to defeat the Dark Lord would be born at the end of July. Two families were considered targets, the Longbottoms and the Potters. The prophecy stated that the Dark Lord would choose the one who could defeat him, and he chose the Potters' child."

Harry listened intently, his heart hammering loudly in his chest.

"It was stated that the Dark Lord would give powers to the child, and that the child would have powers that the Dark Lord did not know. After too many failed attempts by lesser Death Eaters to kill the boy and his parents, the Dark Lord placed me in charge of the hunt. I unknowingly captured my godson and brought him to the Dark Lord."

Harry interjected, "Then this boy is dead, and the Master will win this war."

Sirius shook his head. "I brought the baby, but something kept me from letting him be killed. I convinced the Dark Lord that the baby would make a great asset, considering he supposedly had the powers to defeat him, which would indicate great power and potential. The Dark Lord agreed only on the terms that the child was raised as a loyal follower and never allowed knowledge of the truth of his parentage," Sirius said heavily.

Harry suddenly stopped breathing. He did not want to hear the rest of this tale.

"Harry," Sirius said, hardly able to look the younger man in the eye, "although I raised you, I am not your father."

The entire room fell silent, and all eyes rested on Harry. The young man sat stiller than a statue, his fists curled tightly over his knees. His narrowed eyes never moved from Sirius, and his breath came out in short bursts from his nose.

It was several long minutes before anyone dared to move. "Harry," Hermione asked tentatively, moving to lay a hand on his shoulder.

Before she could do so, Harry leapt from the chair, his face turning a bright shade of red, and his hair flying up wildly. "That is a lie," he roared. When Sirius only shook his head, Harry continued, "It's a filthy, dirty lie! What have they done to you, Father, to make you believe this nonsense? There is no way that I am the son of a blood traitor and his filthy Mudblood wench!"

Sirius's temper flared. He stood, glaring down at Harry. "You will not speak of them in such a manner," he snarled.

"You've spoken of them far worse," Harry retorted hotly. "And I will never speak kindly of those who have distorted my father in such a manner. Was it not bad enough that they stole your memories from you years ago, now they've filled your head with lies?"

"They weren't the ones that did it," Sirius yelled back.

"Bullshit," Harry snapped, dropping all sense of manners. If his grandmother had still been alive and had heard him, she would have Vanished his tongue. Harry whirled and pointed accusingly at Hermione. "And to think, I actually trusted you!"

Sirius forced down Harry's hand and stood between him and Hermione. "She had nothing to do with it." Harry jerked his arm from Sirius's grasp. "Harry, I know this is a lot to take, but believe me when I say that I am telling you the truth."

"But it can't be true," Harry said, almost despondently. "They are not my parents. You are my father. My name is on the Family Tree."

Sirius, his temper having also diminished, sank back into his chair, shoulders slightly hunched. "It was a complicated spell that my mother preformed when I brought you home. We pricked your finger and transferred a small amount of my blood into you. You had to have at least a bit for the Tree to acknowledge you. Also, your eyes aren't grey."

"You know, after seeing them everyday in the mirror, I'd say they are," Harry said dryly.

Sirius frowned and held up his wand. He pointed to Harry's eyes and said, "_Finite Incantatem_."

Harry felt a small tingling sensation for a second. Then, everything felt normal again. He blinked at Sirius. The older man was regarding him sadly. Harry then looked up at Hermione. She stared wide-eyed for a moment before waving her wand to produce a mirror. She held it up for Harry to see.

Harry nearly toppled from the chair in surprise. The cool shade of grey he knew well as his eyes had been changed to a bright and vibrant green. It was a color unlike anything Harry had ever seen before except for one place. Lily Potter's eyes.

Harry spun to look at the woman. She stared back with the same eyes Harry had seen in the mirror. "You have your mother's eyes," Sirius's voice caused Harry to turn around again. Sirius then smiled a humorless smile. "But you look just like your father."

Harry's eyes flashed over to the Potters again. It was only then that he realized just how much he did look like James Potter. In fact, they were nearly identical, Harry being built just slightly more slender. And these eyes, they were the perfect replica of Lily Potter's. Harry had never looked a thing like the other members of the Black family, excluding eye and hair color. They were all tall and slender, built like Seekers. Harry was tall, but his chest and shoulders were broad, built like a Chaser or Beater. The Blacks all had refined, chiseled features and carried themselves with a superiority and grace that was natural. Harry had often been told he was slightly clumsy by his grandmother, something that had never been said of Atria, Draco or any of Harry's other cousins.

Then could it be that all that Sirius had said was true? Harry suddenly recalled his Sorting. It had been many years ago, but Harry vividly remembered all that the Sorting Hat had said. It had not been much, as Harry had been placed in Slytherin almost immediately.

"_Pity, all things considered, you'll be_ SLYTHERIN!"

At the time, he had taken that to mean that the Hat was as partial to Gryffindors as all the blood traitors and Mudbloods running around the place were. The Potters, Harry knew, had been Gryffindors for as long as the Blacks had been Slytherin. James Potter had been a Gryffindor. Lily Potter had been a Gryffindor. Their daughter was a Gryffindor. _All things considered_…

Harry turned narrowed eyes to Sirius. "Change them back," he said lowly. Sirius blinked. "Put them back the way they were," Harry commanded to Sirius. "I don't care what you say. I don't care what you, they, or the bloody Queen of England says, I am Harry Black. I am your son, and nothing, not even the word of God, will make me see things differently."

Hermione looked as though she were about to say something but fell silent when Sirius raised his hand. "Do you believe everything I've told you," he asked.

"I don't like it one bit," Harry said simply.

"That is not what I asked," Sirius said. "Do you accept it?"

Harry glared heatedly at the older man for several long minutes, an expression Sirius gladly returned. Finally, Harry crossed his arms and said, "If I must."

Sirius smirked. "For now, that will do." He raised his wand and muttered a spell. Harry's eyes faded back to the usual grey.

"Do not get any delusions of grandeur," Harry scoffed at the Potters, glaring at them through the corner of his eye. "Just because I am forced to accept the genetics does not mean I regard you as my parents, nor will I ever."

Smartly, both Hermione and Sirius reached out a smacked him. "Don't speak to your mother like that," Sirius said, Hermione adding in, "Yeah."

"It's all right," Lily spoke for the first time since entering the room. "We didn't really expect him to even accept the truth so soon, much less start calling us Mummy and Daddy." Harry snorted.

Hermione flicked the back of his ear. She understood that what Harry had just been told had thrown his entire world for a loop, but she couldn't help but look out for Lily and James's feelings too. She imagined it was very difficult for them to hear their only son bluntly stating that he didn't care to be connected to them in any way, least of all biologically.

No one had expected this to be a simple matter to resolve. No one had thought that Harry would hear the story, smile, and hug Lily and James as though they'd never been parted. That was the sort of thing that even children questioned in fairy tales. This was something that would never fully be put to rest. James and Lily would always long for Harry to accept them as his parents. Sirius would always simultaneously hang onto his fatherly role for Harry and push him to give Lily and James a chance. Harry would forever hate Lily and James, something that had been instilled in him since before he could remember. He would always view them as the enemy.

It was several long minutes before the silence was broken. "Harry," Sirius said.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered.

Sirius was slow to respond. He stared into the flames in the fireplace. "Where is your stepmother?"

"I sent her to France," Harry said.

Sirius nodded. "Go to the manor and pack a bag of clothes and anything else you find necessary. Bring your sister here. Don't let any of the elves or relatives see you."

Harry frowned. It would raise many suspicions if Atria and he were to disappear. But they had slipped back into the proper roles of father and son. Harry knew better than to question Sirius. "Yes, sir," he said, standing and heading for the door.

"Girl," Sirius commanded, "bring him to the gate and wait for them."

Hermione, who also knew better than to question Sirius, followed Harry. "Okay, Sirius," she said, slipping out the door.

After the door clicked shut, James turned to Sirius. "You're having him bring Atria here," he asked. "Isn't your family going to wonder where the kids are?"

Sirius smirked at him. "They'll think of something," he said. He sank as low in the chair as his impeccable posture would allow him. That had been a peachy start to the night. And when Atria arrived, it was bound to get even better. Atria was a child, and although children tended to be more trusting, Atria had a meaner temper than her brother. She would not take kindly to the news that her father was a Gryffindor blood traitor. Sirius ran a hand over his tired face and through his hair, causing it to stick up on ends. He almost wished he was still in that coma. It would be so much easier to have someone else explain these things to his children.

Fatherhood was such a joy.


	31. Deliberation

**Chapter 31**

Hermione led Harry through the deserted halls of Hogwarts. Neither spoke. Hermione was still worried. She knew that Harry had not really accepted everything that had been told to him just now. It was too much to ask for that he could do that. It was unrealistic. He had only said so to appease Sirius for the time being. Hermione wondered if Harry would ever truly accept that he was not born a Black.

Hermione pushed open the front doors of the castle and walked briskly down the path to the front gates. She pulled her cloak tighter around her. It was chilly, despite the summer night. Upon arriving at the gates, Hermione nodded to the guards. "Make rounds," she said, and they walked away, trailing along side the enclosure of the school grounds. Hermione looked up at Harry and quickly turned to undo the locks on the gate. His stormy eyes were flashing with lightning. "Go get your sister," Hermione said, holding the gate open. "I'll be waiting to let you back in."

Harry nodded at her. He stepped through the gates where he could properly Apparate. He turned over his shoulder and stared at her. For once, Hermione couldn't read his expression. He disappeared with a loud crack, and Hermione hoped that he would come back.

Harry appeared in the park across the street from his family's house. He slipped through the gate and walked up to the door, invisible to the eyes of Muggles. He entered and shut the door quietly behind him. Harry stood still for a moment, listening deep into the house for any signs of the other inhabitants. When he couldn't even hear Kreacher slinking around, Harry made his way up to the third floor. He grabbed a bag from his bedroom and proceeded to shrink objects and clothes, throwing them inside hurriedly. Then he went into Atria's room. It was late, and the little girl was curled up comfortably in her bed.

Harry reached over and shook her awake. "Atria, get up," he whispered. Atria rolled over and rubbed her eyes, reluctant to follow his command. "Now, Atria!"

Atria blinked her tired blue eyes up at him. "Harry," she asked, "is it morning?"

"No, Atria," Harry said, pulling her up. "It's still very late, but we need to leave. We need to leave right now." At his urgent tone and darting eyes, Atria awoke fully.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't worry," Harry said. "We're leaving, so go get anything you want to bring." Atria slid out of bed and collected her jewelry box along with a few toys and pictures she was particularly fond of while Harry threw her shrunken dresses and shoes into the bag. She slipped into a pair of shoes, and Harry pulled one of her coats from her closet, slipping it on her. He took her hand and led her down one flight of stairs. Handing her the bag, he said, "Go and get clothes for Father."

"Father," Atria said curiously before her face lit up. "You know where Father—" Harry's hand slapped over her mouth.

"We can't let anyone know that we're leaving, Atria," he whispered. "Go get some things for him. I'll be back in a minute. Don't let anyone see or hear you." Atria hurried inside their father's room while Harry went down to the office. He quickly gathered numerous files and plans, placing them in an endless space folder. He moved in a complete daze, his mind not entirely focused on the tasks his body was performing. His world had been turned upside down and then shaken furiously, like one of those ridiculous snow-globes his great aunt had obsessively collected.

His father had never lied to him before. Sirius was a man who believed that lies were pointless, especially among family. That was one way in which he had never sheltered his children. He had always been honest with them, telling them of situations as they were. He had not even sugar coated what his job as the Dark Lord's general detailed. Harry and Atria had known from a young age that their father killed people. But it was war, and that's what happened in war. Neither had ever given it much thought.

Sirius, after telling Harry that same wild story Hermione had, had offered to take the Veritaserum potion. While Harry would have never normally doubted his father's word, he was half convinced that Sirius had been altered by the Order. They had had him for months, more than enough time to subject him to mind altering tortures. Although Harry did not like to admit it, the Order had Dumbledore, who was a more powerful wizard than Harry's father.

But Sirius had offered to take the potion in front of the other Order members, more than once. If they had altered him and the story he was telling Harry was a false tale, shouldn't they have been concerned about his offer? Shouldn't they have stopped Sirius from saying such a thing, taking the potion, and then blowing the whole thing?

That revelation disturbed Harry more than he would care to admit to anyone.

There was also Hermione to consider. He had always trusted her, for reasons neither of them could ever decide. What part had she really played in this? Was she being completely honest with him? Harry had been with Hermione for most of his life now. There was no possible way that, especially considering she was a Muggle-born, she had been prepped to be his friend for the sheer purpose of capturing him and his father years down the line. It was as improbable as it was impossible.

Hermione had always been trustworthy. So why was she on their side? Harry had told her that going into the Order was a bad idea. She was stubborn. Of course, she hadn't listened. Had they somehow convinced her to turn against him and thus his father? Of course, Hermione had never been on Sirius's side, but by caring for Harry, she, in extension, cared for Sirius. Harry knew that she had been safe in hiding when Sirius had been captured. She hadn't played a direct part in that, but she had known where he was after and what was being done to him. After Sirius had been captured, Harry had become free to correspond with Hermione again. She could have told him at any time. Why hadn't she?

She had been under orders, she said. Harry wondered, would he have kept information like that from her, had it been her parents captured? The Order promoted legal uses of magic. They would never agree to using the Imperius Curse, especially not on one of their own. He could easily rule out that they were controlling her through magic. They would also not threaten her family.

Was she acting, then, completely of her own conscious? Harry hardly wanted to consider it. But he had to look at the facts. She had known about his father and hadn't told him. She had been playing a part in the whole operation. Any alterations that had been made to Sirius's character were partly her fault.

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. It was best to concentrate now on the task his father had given him. It would not do well for someone to walk in on Harry loading up all his father's documents or on Atria packing clothes. Checking the dark halls carefully for any late night wanders, Harry slipped out of the office and went upstairs to collect Atria. He placed the folder into the bag, slinging it over his shoulder and picking up his sister.

They snuck back outside and across the street, where Harry Apparated them back to Hogwarts. They appeared just outside the gates with a loud crack. "Thank God," Hermione said relieved, pulling the gates open. Harry stepped inside and set Atria down. Hermione reset the locks and charms and called the guards back over. "We should hurry back before they see her," she said.

Although Atria had never been to Hogwarts, she knew it well enough from stories told to her by various members of her family. She also knew that Hogwarts was not a place for her family's types to be, excluding their years in school. Hogwarts was headed by the blood traitor Dumbledore. What was her brother doing here with this strange girl, who Atria judged to be, what with her plain looks, either a low class Slytherin or some sort of half-blood. She didn't even entertain the idea that the girl could be a Mudblood.

Harry took Atria's hand, and together the three walked briskly, nearly running, up the path to the castle. They pulled open the heavy front doors, which locked behind them after they were inside. The girl then led the Black siblings through the long corridors of the castle, making so many twists and turns that Atria was very soon lost. They reached an area that looked, even to Atria, like it was rarely seen by students. Hermione knocked on the door and stuck her head inside, muttering something. Then she walked in, closing the door behind Harry and Atria.

The first thing Atria noticed in the room was the disturbing numbers of blood traitors. She recognized Dumbledore and the Potters. She believed that if she had been old enough for a wand, she would have drawn it. Instead, she pressed herself closer to her brother, wondering frantically why he had not drawn his wand and why he had let that girl lead him to this place.

Harry, having noticed that Atria's attention was focused on the Gryffindors, pushed her forward. It was then that Atria finally noticed Sirius Black sitting in an armchair before the fireplace. Atria gasped. "Father," she cried, running forward and flinging herself into his arms. Because respectable young ladies did not soil their faces with tears, Atria fought back the urge to cry with relief. "Daddy, I've been so worried about you!"

Sirius ran a hand over her dark hair. "Everything is fine, Atria," he said soothingly.

"No, it's not fine," the girl insisted. "You've been held here as a prisoner. Those nasty blood traitors took you away." She turned blazing eyes to the Gryffindors. "Didn't you do enough before," she nearly snarled. The old headmaster merely sat watching her, but the Potters looked rather uncomfortable. "What are you doing in here," she demanded. "Gloating over him? Well, stop it! Give him back his wand and let us leave."

"No one is going anywhere, Atria," Sirius said.

"But, Daddy, we need to go home. Uncle Lucius and Aunt Bellatrix have been fighting so hard to bring you back. You have work to do."

"We are not going back," Sirius reaffirmed. "We're staying here with the Order now."

"We're all prisoners," Atria asked worriedly.

"No," Sirius said, laying his hands on her shoulders. "Atria, there's something we need to explain to you." Sirius spent the next several minutes telling Atria the stories that Harry had been told earlier that night. She remained quiet through the whole ordeal, merely staring at her father. "Atria," he asked tentatively after he had ended the tale.

Atria's eyes narrowed, and her fists began to shake. Her face turned red with the effort of holding back her temper, but it did not last long. She exploded angrily, whirling on the Potters and Dumbledore. "What have you done to my father, you filthy vermin? You disgusting Mudbloods! When the Dark Lord hears of this, you will be begging for death. Begging! You have brainwashed my father into believing your terrible lies."

Harry joined his sister in glaring at the Gryffindors. Sirius leaned down to his daughter's eye level. "Atria, no one is lying to you," he said. "Everything I said is the real truth."

"No, it's not," Atria screamed. She pushed Sirius away from her. "You would never say that Harry is a half-blood. You would never side with the blood traitors. You wouldn't have tolerated these blood traitors and Mudbloods." She kicked a nearby table, sending the vase sitting on top crashing to the floor. Her temper had flooded over, and she no longer cared for any sense of manners or proper behavior. Sirius frowned down at her but did not yell back as he had done with Harry.

With angry tears falling down her cheeks, Atria pulled Harry towards her. She glared at Hermione. "You," she growled, "you stay away from my brother, you Mudblood!" She clung to Harry's arm, shooting a glare at the Potters. "And don't you ever dare say that he is your son. He is a Black. He is not a half-blood!"

Harry lifted Atria, who had begun to sob uncontrollably, up into his arms and brought her into one of the adjacent rooms of Sirius's suite, the door slamming shut behind them. The room was left in awkward and uncomfortable silence, broken only by the muffled sounds of Atria's cries. Sirius dropped back into his chair, a hand over his face. Some minutes later, he tried to make light of the situation, saying, "I thought she'd break more than just one vase."

Lily frowned slightly, glancing at the door. "Maybe you should go talk to her again, Sirius," she said.

Sirius shook his head. "No," he said simply.

"Don't you think it would help," James asked. "She—er—looked angry, to say the least."

"Would I let anyone talk to me if I was that angry," Sirius asked. "When I said she has a temper, I meant she has my temper." Sirius shook his head. He knew his daughter well. She was done talking about this until she next brought it up, and Sirius could not foresee her doing so in a positive light for a long time. "But now is not the time to worry about Atria. We need to talk about the initiation."

Hermione took a seat and said, "Do you think that's a good idea right now? He's only just found out about you and who he really is. That's more than enough to have him on a mental edge for weeks as is."

"But do we have time to delay," James asked. "The war's been going on for decades."

"I don't mean to sound cruel," Hermione said coolly, "but if it's been going on that long, it can go on a little longer. We can't send Harry off to fight like he is now. I understand that he became a Death Eater because of you, Sirius, but you can't expect that he will drop all loyalty to You-Know-Who just because of what you told him tonight."

Sirius shook his head. "Of course, I don't expect him to have lost any loyalty," he said. "I still have the urge to do the Dark Lord's bidding." Although he sounded slightly ashamed, he did not falter in his gaze. "But that doesn't change that he's the only one who can end this war."

"But should we send him to fight," Lily asked. "Sirius, Hermione, you know him best. You know his chances best. Could he handle it?"

"No," Sirius immediately answered. "He needs better training before he fights the Dark Lord, and that needs to start straight away."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Harry's talented, but You-Know-Who has more experience. They might be marked equals, but experience and confidence go a long way."

"We need to evaluate all of his strengths and weaknesses," James said.

"Flying, undoubtedly," Hermione answered. "And his best marks were always in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Oddly enough," Sirius said with a smirk. "He's fine with Occlumency."

"He could use more training in Charms," Hermione continued. "I'd say you should work with him on it, Lily, but I don't think he'd take it well."

Lily smiled, albeit sadly. "You're just as good, if not better, than I am, Hermione." The younger blushed.

"We can not only focus on Harry's magical improvement," Dumbledore said, surprising the others. He had been silent for so long, they had almost forgotten he was even there. "It is, I believe, imperative that he knows and understands Voldemort's past. It must be done if he is to be able to defeat him."

Sirius frowned. "I don't know how well that's going to turn out. He's still loyal right now."

"Maybe you could talk to him some more," James said. "You and Hermione. You'll be the only ones he'll listen to for a while, I'd say." Hermione looked to Sirius for his opinion. It was several moments before the man nodded slowly. Hermione stated her agreement to James, running a hand through her frazzled hair. It was only just beginning to dawn on her how deep she was in this whole mess.

It seemed like only recently that she had become so entangled, but Hermione knew that it had started the day Harry had found her reading under that tree in the park. It had begun when he showed her a Chocolate Frog and gave her the card inside. Months ago, Hermione had been a newly inducted member of the Order. She had been nothing, in the scheme of ranks. She hadn't been very useful either, merely doing occasional research and being an extra hand just in case something got too overwhelming for a more senior member. But then Harry had saved her from a curse in battle, and she had gained a top spot on Sirius Black's hit list. One big whirlwind later and Hermione was in over her head in the most secret plan of the Order of the Phoenix.

Although her parents knew about the general situation with Harry and Sirius, they did not know what it was that she was devoting her nearly every waking moment to. They didn't know why she came home so late and left so early in the mornings. She hardly ever had time to talk with Ron and Neville either. Although they wrote her letters, Hermione was so busy, she usually replied in the form of a hurried note, if she could reply at all. She knew that they were worried about her. They had said so explicitly in their letters. But Hermione could not tell them what she was doing. She couldn't even be completely honest with her parents.

And Harry, Ron and Neville had never exactly been the best of mates. Hermione shuddered to think of the fight that would ensue when Ron and Neville, who had always been fast to defend her against arrogant, prejudice Slytherins, found out that Hermione had been with Harry for years. She knew that the easiest and simplest thing that could happen would be that Ron would be very jealous. He had liked her once back in school, and Hermione would be lying if she said she hadn't fancied him a little. But Hermione would be foolishly optimistic if that was all she expected to happen.

She and Sirius were in a fragile position. They were the ones who would either turn Harry to their side of the war or push him away. The situation would have to be handled with extreme caution and delicacy. They would need to spend a lot of time talking about it before they even thought of approaching Harry.

Over the course of the next few days, Hermione hardly found time to talk to either of the Black men. Harry was brooding. He didn't speak with anyone, not her, not his father, not even Atria, who was the only other one who could relate to him right then. He did not leave the castle, as had been asked of him. He did not even leave the rooms in which the Black family was living in. He merely sat in his room, staring out the window and thinking. Hermione had tried a few times to get him to speak with her, even of things with no consequence, like how unusually cold it was this summer or how the Bulgarians, his favorite foreign Quidditch team, stood up to the Welch, who had just received a fantastic new Chaser this season.

But Harry would not speak to her. Hermione had taken the hint quickly and had since left him alone. She knew that when he was ready—if he was ready—he would come find her, and as per their usual protocol, they would not bring up that they had not spoken. They would have to discuss all these changes. They were too important to be ignored, but everything else would follow the norm. Harry would not say anything of his silent treatment against her, and Hermione would not reprimand him for shutting her out. Neither would make any sort of apologies, but they would be fine.

As Hermione had an idea of where she stood with Harry, she was not too concerned. However, she had a job to do, getting Harry properly on the Order's side of the war. It was imperative that she get started, but she could never get a word in with Sirius. Atria had taken to positioning herself firmly at her father's side. She did not leave, even when he asked or commanded her to. The others could certainly see where she had gotten her stubborn streak.

Atria did not like any of the Order members, but she especially did not like Hermione. She proclaimed loudly, and numerous times, that she thought Hermione to be the root of most of this trouble. According to her, Hermione had done something to keep Harry around her. This had caused Sirius to become consume with overwhelming anger, which had, for all its righteousness, caused him to become reckless. This had led to his capture at the hands of the Potters and Dumbledore's alteration of him.

Since some of Atria's accusations were true, Hermione had no idea how to combat her. Sirius had spent the first few days trying to explain to her time and time again that she had been told the truth and that Hermione had not been the one to start the chain of events that had led them all to this point. Atria had not cared. Old pictures had not swayed her thoughts. She was firmly set on blaming someone for the chaos that had flooded her world, and she had picked Hermione.


	32. Engagements

**Chapter 32**

The next few weeks were not easy for anyone. Hermione was ready to pull out all of her hair. Sirius had lost his temper more times than they could count. James was sulking, and Lily was irritable. Even Dumbledore seemed to be frowning more often. Of course, no one had expected the Black children to easily accept that their father was really a Gryffindor and brainwashed by the Dark Lord as part of a grand plot to take down the Order of the Phoenix, but really, they could be a little more cooperative.

Harry and Atria had made no moves to speak with anyone, excluding each other, since Atria had been brought to Hogwarts and informed of the situation regarding her father. They were not helping what was already a difficult and delicate situation. It was imperative for the Order and the safety of the wizarding world that Harry be turned to the Light side. But Sirius and Hermione could not make any progress with him if he refused to speak with them.

Although they were all convinced of Sirius's sincere desire to remain with the Order, Sirius was still not permitted to leave Hogwarts, so he and Hermione sat in his parlor in his suite, discussing yet another approach that might be taken to force Harry into sitting down and talking with them about the war.

"I'm about to just hex him," Sirius said, crossing his arms and frowning deeply.

Hermione scolded, "You can't hex your son, Sirius." Sirius looked about to protest when a knock came on the door. As students almost never wandered to this end of the castle, Hermione was sure she knew who it was, but as for protocol, she asked when she reached the door, "Who is it?"

"James and Lily," James's voice answered. "Harry's parents." Hermione nodded and opened the door. Standing beside Lily and James were Remus and Tonks. While Remus was a fairly common guest of Sirius's, Hermione was quite surprised to see Tonks. She turned to look at James with wide eyes. There had been an unspoken agreement that only a small number of choice people were allowed to know about Sirius, much less see him. Tonks, as trustworthy as she was, was not on the list.

James smiled at her reassuringly, and Hermione stepped back to allow the visitors entrance. She shut the door behind them and silently wondered when she had agreed to act as Sirius's butler. When she turned to the scene unfolding before her, she saw that Sirius had remained in his chair and was shooting an unreadable expression at Tonks, although Hermione did note mild revulsion at Tonks's bright pink hair. Tonks was clutching Remus's hand and looking very nervous, nervous enough that her eyes were changing color with each blink.

Remus pulled her in front of him and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Sirius, you remember Nymphadora?"

Despite her extreme wariness at being in such close proximity to General Sirius Black, Tonks was miffed enough at the use of her birth name that her hair turned red. If Sirius had missed the flashing colors of her eyes, he certainly didn't miss her hair. He eyed it with recognition. "This is little Nymphadora," he asked.

"Tonks," she muttered, blushing and looking at her feet.

"What," Sirius asked.

Remus chuckled almost inaudibly as Tonks said, "Tonks. Nymphadora is a stupid name."

The room was silent for a moment. Tonks mentally berated herself for saying something so childish. But then, Sirius let out a bark of laughter. Lily, James, and Remus all grinned. Hermione and Tonks both felt very confused. Finally, Sirius stood up. He crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing Tonks critically. "I always told Andromeda that," he said. "She insisted you'd grow into it and think it was interestingly unique."

Tonks was unable to hold back her snort of disagreement, which caused Sirius to let out another bark of laughter. His unexpected laughter seemed to bring Tonks out of her unusual confidence lack. She grinned at him.

Hermione was just about to ask why Tonks had been brought in and why they all seemed so familiar with each other when Remus said, "I figured I should let you see her before we said this." He grinned and Sirius raised a curious brow. Hermione noticed that Lily and James were smiling too.

Tonks took hold of Remus's hand again and grinned widely. Her eyes flashed to her favorite shade of violet, and she cheered, "Remus and I are getting married!" Hermione could see that Lily and James had already been informed. She smiled brightly and ran forward to hug both Tonks and Remus.

"Oh, congratulations," she said, clutching Tonks's hands.

After a few seconds, Sirius's harsh voice cut across the room. "Hold on a minute," he said. The others turned to him, and Hermione's eyes were wide. What was wrong with him? He had been laughing just a moment ago. "Did I just hear correctly? Lupin, you're getting married to Nymphadora, my little cousin and thirteen years your junior?"

Hermione was shocked. Tonks was Sirius's cousin? She had never known that. But Harry had never mentioned anything about a cousin named Nymphadora or an Andromeda. Perhaps they were some who had been blasted off the Tree? She knew that those who had been blasted off were not spoken of by the remaining family. They were seen as mistakes and, after all, since a perfect family had no mistakes, they would have been completely shunned and ignored as though they had never existed in the first place. Tonks had told Hermione that her father was a Muggle-born. That would have been a perfectly legitimate reason for the Blacks to blast her mother off the Tree.

Remus suddenly looked nervous. Tonks was gripping his hand tighter than ever before. James was staring incredulously at Sirius, and Lily had a frown on her face. Although Sirius's personality was still very unstable, and would likely remain so for years to come, they all expected him to at least be happy that his old friend was getting married, even if it was to his little cousin. At Sirius's deepened frown, Remus stood straighter. With a set jaw, he said firmly, "Yes, I am."

The silence in the room was deafening, and the tension was thick. Hermione, Lily, and James looked back and forth from Sirius and Remus. Hermione was scared that one of them would forget completely about wands and actually hit the other.

Suddenly, Sirius's lips stretched into a smirk. "You old dog," he said. James immediately began to laugh, holding onto his sides as he howled. Lily and Hermione both rolled their eyes in exasperation. Tonks looked torn from joining James in laughter or sending a hex at Sirius.

Remus's lips stretched in a deadpan frown. "You're a git," he said simply. Sirius merely shrugged before holding out a hand for Remus to shake.

"I could have done worse," Sirius said.

Remus then chuckled. "Twenty years ago, I have no doubt that you would have," he said.

"Come on, Moony," Sirius said with a grimace, "She was only six years old back then."

"Sirius, stop it," Tonks cried. "You make him sound like a dirty old man."

"He's getting married to someone he knew as a little girl running around in a jumper with pigtails and missing teeth. Of course he's a dirty old man," Sirius said casually.

Tonks placed her hands on her hips and said simply and finally, "You are such a dork."

Sirius shrugged and resumed his seat. He motioned to an armchair nearby and said, "So, Dora, tell me what you've been up to for the past twenty years."

* * *

It was the first Order meeting Hermione had been to since Lily and James had told her about Sirius's past. It felt like years as opposed to the mere months. The meeting was rather simple, almost every member in attendance. Lily had told Hermione that the spies, especially Dumbledore's most trusted, only attended meetings of the inner most circle of the Order. No startling revelations were made, nor were any major moves against the Death Eaters decided.

When Dumbledore finally called the meeting to closure, Hermione jumped up from her chair and went to find Ron and Neville. It had been a very long time since she had seen either of them, and as they were her best friends, conversing solely through letters was completely unacceptable. They weren't difficult to find, Ron's red head and height made him easy to spot in a crowd. "Ron!"

Ron turned and spotted Hermione's bushy hair. He pulled her into a hug after she pushed through Emmaline Vance and Sturgis Podmore. Neville greeted her just as enthusiastically. "It's been way too long since we've seen you, Hermione," he said. "What have you been up to? Your letters haven't been too detailed."

Hermione shook her head and skirted around the question as best she could without seeming suspicious. "I'm just glad that I'm not stuck in my house all the time now."

"That was some luck," Ron said with a whistle. "Your first fight put you on Black's list. That man's insane." Hermione refrained from frowning.

A moment later, Ginny appeared at Ron's side, a frown etched onto her face. It was an expression of general irritation rather than of a serious situation, and the others simply assumed that Molly had been hounding her about something or other again. At the distant sounds of a crashing umbrella stand and frantic apologies, Hermione grinned. "Did you hear, Tonks and Remus are engaged."

Ginny's face immediately brightened. "Really," she asked. "That's wonderful."

Ron smirked. "Lupin could use some color in his life," he said. "And there's no one around more colorful than Tonks." He moved his hands near his head and made a light popping noise to suggest Tonks's wild hair tendencies.

Hermione nodded. "It's not going to be a very big wedding," she said. "Just a few close friends, whatever family they have left. In a couple of months."

"That's quick," Neville commented.

Hermione shrugged. "They said that since they weren't having a large ceremony, then there was no point in waiting any longer."

Ginny grinned. "You know, I'm beginning to think there isn't a matter on the planet that you don't have a plethora of information for," she said. "When did you hear all this?"

"Last week," Hermione said. "I was up at Hogwarts talking to Professor Dumbledore, and Tonks and Remus came by. So they told me."

"Speaking of weddings," Ron said, and Ginny's face fell, "Bill's getting married too."

"Really," Hermione said with all the interest of a teenage girl reading the gossip column. "Not to—"

"Fleur," Ron finished. "Yeah. They made the announcement a few days ago at dinner. Mum wasn't the happiest pea in the pod. Neither is Ginny here."

Hermione looked over to Ginny, who indeed did not look happy. Before Hermione could ask, Ginny snapped, "Phlegm wouldn't irritate me so much if she didn't pinch my cheeks like I was three years old. And I swear, if she could flounce about any more." Ginny then did a rather rude, but accurate, imitation of Fleur Delacour.

Hermione pushed back a smile. She really didn't have anything against Fleur. She had met the part Veela back in her fourth year at Hogwarts. The Tri-Wizard Tournament had been held for the first time in years. Much to both Harry and Ron's displeasure, Hermione had made friends with Quidditch star Viktor Krum, the Drumstrang champion, who had taken a liking to her. The Tournament had ended in tragedy with the death of Cedric Diggory due to sabotage of the Final Task by Death Eaters.

Ron had once told Hermione that Fleur was working with Bill at Gringotts. He had made some crack about Bill giving Fleur private English lesions. Hermione hadn't thought they had been serious enough to consider marriage, despite the fact that many people seemed to rush into the commitment during the war.

They discussed these upcoming marriages for some minutes. Hermione was relieved to see that such happy occurrences were still going on during the war. It was dark out there. The Ministry was becoming more and more corrupt and infiltration was everywhere. It was difficult to fight it back. Dumbledore was a high factor in Voldemort's failure to completely take over the Ministry thus far.

Hermione meant to go find Bill and congratulate him on his engagement, but Lily suddenly appeared at her side. She spared a smile to the others and said, "Come on, Hermione. Meeting's about to start."

"But the meeting just ended," Hermione said. Lily fixed Hermione with a pointed stare, and it took Hermione a moment to understand. "Oh," she said quietly.

Lily chuckled and said with a shrug, "Implicit." Hermione nodded. The moment Lily and James had come to her parents' house to tell her of Harry's true parentage, Hermione had become a member of the Order's Inner Circle. No one had ever thought to mention it, but with Hermione so heavily involved in the situation with Harry and Sirius, she had to be one of those select few to whom Dumbledore trusted greater secrets. As Lily said, implicit.

It was common knowledge that the Inner Circle met more than the rest of the Order. They had additional meetings as Dumbledore saw fit and always gathered after general meetings. As Lily and Hermione began to walk away, Ron spoke up, "You're in the Inner Circle? You kept that quiet."

Hermione turned with wide eyes. "Ron, Neville, I'm so sorry," she said sincerely. Neville shot her a slightly unnerved half smile, and Ron rolled his eyes, waving his hand at her in a manner that said he was simply messing with her.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do one day," he said in a mockingly serious tone.

Once all the members were locked into the room, Dumbledore placed Silencing Charms and sealed the doors. A moment later, a tapestry opened to reveal a secret doorway. Severus Snape walked out. Hermione's jaw dropped in surprise. Of all men in the world, he was one of the least she would have guessed to be a spy. When all were in their seats, Dumbledore turned to Hermione.

"Miss Granger," he said kindly, "although you have not been initiated into this Circle as all others before you have, I trust that you understand how desperately serious it is that you discuss nothing of what goes on inside this room with those who are not currently in attendance."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said.

"And I also trust that you will never pass along information about any of your fellow members."

"Never, sir," Hermione promised.

"And finally, I trust that you are aware the danger involved with being a member of this Inner Circle. You will learn things here that others will never know, even years and years after this war has ended. If it is discovered that you are one of my most trusted, it could put your life in even greater risk," he said.

"I've been running the risk of being on Dark wizard's hit lists since I was seven years old," she said, smiling at the almost inaudible snort that came from her left where Sirius sat. "Been there, done that."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Now that this has been settled, let us get down to the real business." He turned to Snape.

Snape took a moment to look up and down the table. He studied Hermione for a moment longer than the others, and Hermione got the feeling that he didn't trust her to be there. However, he said nothing against her. He folded his hands on the table before him and said, "The Dark Lord grows ever angrier at the loss of his pet general." He made a slight motion to Sirius, and Hermione felt him stiffen beside her. "Of course, any one could guess this. He spent a lot of time turning Black into his little puppet."

"Watch it, Snivellus," Sirius growled. Dumbledore held up a hand, and Sirius relaxed only slightly.

Snape sneered at the other man before continuing his report. "He has correctly guessed with the recent disappearance of Black's children from the manor that we have succeeded in restoring Black's stolen memories. I have told him it is true."

"Then all the Death Eaters know that Sirius is once again in the Order," James said. "They'll know he's on our side again."

Sirius crossed his arms and stared pointedly at Dumbledore. "So, am I done hiding now," he asked dryly.

Dumbledore smiled humorlessly. "They know," he said. "But what of the general public? They know your name well as a feared Death Eater. Despite that they once knew you as a brave Auror, do you think they wouldn't hesitate to throw you in Azkaban?"

Sirius snorted irritably. "Let them," he defied. "They're wrong when they say you can't teach an old dog new tricks." To be thrown in Azkaban meant to be at the mercy of the Dementors, and some one as notorious as Sirius Black would be signed off for the Kiss almost immediately. Twenty years ago, Sirius might have been afraid of being thrown in that fortress prison. Twenty years ago, Sirius wouldn't have been able to evade the hundreds of Dementor guards, even with a strong Patronus Charm. Twenty years ago, Sirius had hated the Dark Arts. But now, he had lived two decades as the most feared Death Eater of them all. He might have had all his memories returned to him, but it was foolish to think that Sirius would ever be able to behave in the same mannerisms again. If the situation called for it, he would not hesitate to use his vast knowledge of the Dark Arts.

"It's not that simple, Sirius," McGonagall said. "If you were to blast your way out of Azkaban, then it would only further cement in people's minds how dangerous you are."

"So, what am I supposed to do," Sirius asked angrily. "Sit and hide like a worthless coward? I wouldn't do that as a Slytherin, much less as a Gryffindor!"

"Do you mean to call me a coward," Snape asked dangerously. Hermione was acutely aware that almost everyone in the room was a Gryffindor. Snape was certainly the only Slytherin. "I, who am the one daily risking life and limb to bring you information without which you could not possibly defeat the Dark Lord, while you sit in your comforts and lament them like a spoiled child?"

"Severus," Lily exclaimed. Snape looked like he desperately wanted to say more, but he held his tongue. Lily continued, "Sev, that's completely unfair. No one—" she shot stern glances at Sirius and, for good measure, James, who looked almost as livid as his best friend "—is denying the danger of your job, and we're all very thankful for it. James and I would have been dead years ago if you hadn't turned. But you can't go against Sirius like that. His position is too unstable to be out fighting in the open just yet. And you can't pretend that he wasn't the most outspoken against the Dark Arts and one of the bravest Aurors."

Hermione was surprised that Snape did not argue with her. The meeting dragged on. Several more arguments erupted between Snape, James, and Sirius. Lily was always the best at calming all three men down, even in instances when even Dumbledore could not. Hermione knew from her talks with Sirius that he, James, and Snape had been fierce enemies before his turning, and even after, Sirius had said that there had always been something about the potions master that he hadn't liked.

Hours later, when the meeting was finally over, Lily held Hermione back from leaving. Molly and Arthur Weasley were the first to depart. Tonks gave Remus a kiss on the cheek and promised to see him back at their flat. McGonagall returned to her quarters to grade what she called an ever-growing mountain of moronic dribble that the students had turned in. James had laughed after her, "Bet you miss me in classes now, don't you, Minnie?"

When only Snape, Dumbledore, the Potters, Remus, and Sirius remained, Hermione quickly learned that it was time to talk about Harry. "If the Dark Lord was furious that the Order had taken you, then his anger is indescribable at the disappearance of the boy," Snape said to Sirius. "He made a large investment not killing him as a baby, and that investment has gone poorly."

"I knew that he'd be barking mad about it," Sirius said, arms crossed. "What's his plan?"

"So far, just the usual, attacks and mass killings of Muggles and wizards alike," Snape said in a nonchalant manner that twisted Hermione's stomach. "He killed your wife when she couldn't give an explanation as to where the children had gone."

Sirius's face was stone set. With a tight jaw, he nodded. They all knew that Sirius hadn't liked his wife, even when he had still been a loyal Death Eater. Hermione wondered if, now that he was closer to his right mind than he had been in twenty years, he would feel sorrow for the hated woman. Her death had been a waste, not her fault at all that Sirius had ordered Harry to bring Atria to Hogwarts in the dead of night. Did he care that that order had cost her life? Hermione knew him well enough to know that she was not to ask under any circumstance, nor would he likely ever divulge the information. Sirius occasionally had good days where he did not mind relaxing and showing his emotions, as he had on the day Remus and Tonks announced their engagement, but most days he was closed in and often brooding.

"He probably knows that Harry follows Sirius," Hermione said, desperate to remove at least some of the tension in the room. "That was fine while Sirius was still the General, but now it's a problem."

"Hogwarts is the safest place anyone can be right now," Lily said. "Harry and Atria will just have to stay in their quarters with Sirius until we can work out something else."

"More house arrest," Sirius said darkly. "Joy."


	33. Regulus's Decision

**Chapter 33**

He hadn't been to Hogwarts in years. The sun shimmered over the distant lake and lit up the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Owls flew sporadically over the grounds. The castle looked just as he remembered it, tall towers and spires cutting high into the blue sky. The bells in the clock tower struck the hour, their melodic chimes sounding through the school. Classes would be ending for the day, and the students on their way to study sessions before dinner. The food at Hogwarts had always been spectacular, and although it was made by many house elves, it always had the feel of a home cooked meal prepared by a loving mother.

Of course, Walburga Black had never cooked a meal in her life.

Regulus strolled up the well-worn path from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. He remembered all the times he had walked it as a student, before he had been officially caught up in the war. A passing Auror gave Regulus a dark look. The younger man pointedly ignored him and continued to walk with his head held high. Regulus, like his cousin Lucius, was a suspected Death Eater, even after all his years of service. Unlike his brother Sirius, there had never been any concrete evidence against Regulus, only word of mouth. Therefore, Regulus was free to walk any street he so chose. But it would give anyone pause that Regulus was visiting Hogwarts.

Regulus approached the gate with poise. He was not here on business for the Dark Lord, but should his master ask, Regulus was certain he could easily convince the Dark Lord otherwise. Regulus had been attempting to communicate with the headmaster for several weeks now, but none of his owls had come back with a response. Regulus's business was urgent, and he would see it through.

The ever-present Auror guard stopped Regulus at the gate. "What's your business," he asked gruffly.

"I am here to see Headmaster Dumbledore," Regulus stated, his voice resolute. People were much more compliant when put up against steadfast confidence.

"Do you have an appointment," he asked.

"Not an official one," Regulus answered truthfully.

"Then you can't come in," the Auror's partner said firmly. "This is a school, sir. We have children in there, and we must think of their safety."

"I assume my assurances that not a soul in that school will be harmed by my hand mean nothing," Regulus said in a nonchalant manner. "If you will please send for the headmaster, I would be glad to speak to him even here from outside these bars."

The Aurors glanced at each other. After a long moment, one nodded. The other took out a scroll from his pocket and quickly scribbled a note. He attached it to the foot of the owl on his shoulder. The brown-feathered bird quickly flew off, leaving the suspected Death Eater and Aurors in heavy, awkward silence.

Some minutes later, the front doors of the castle opened, and a figure, impressive even from the distance, clothed in rich purple robes strolled out. Headmaster Dumbledore greeted Regulus and the Aurors cheerfully, as though it was often that he received such guests. The old man preformed the appropriate spells and unlocked the gates. He motioned Regulus inside. Loftily, he strolled past the guards and into Dumbledore's wake. Once they had cleared the Aurors' earshot, Dumbledore said, "I see that you persistence to speak with me is unwavering enough for you to chance being seen at my school."

"When I say that I have urgent business to discuss, then rest assured that it is not something that can be forgotten or put off," Regulus answered.

Dumbledore gave him a gracious nod and motioned only with his hand that Regulus should speak his piece. "I know that you have my brother here," Regulus said, jumping straight to the point. "There is no use hiding it. The Dark Lord knows it, and so does all my family. There is no other place James Potter would have brought him. I also have no doubts that you have done all in your power to restore the memories that the Dark Lord stripped from him all those years ago. I know you have succeeded too. The fact that both Harry and Atria have disappeared is testament enough."

"You are correct in all instances, Regulus," Dumbledore said, surprising Regulus slightly in that he did not attempt to hide these facts. Regulus kept the expression from his face. "You have taken quite a risk coming here, all but straightforwardly admitting to me that you are a Death Eater."

"I need to speak with my brother," Regulus said.

"This I cannot allow," the elder replied immediately.

Regulus frowned. "You must allow it," he insisted. "He is my brother."

"The same brother that you have been lying to for twenty years," Dumbledore said, his tone no longer jovial. "The same brother that you turned into Lord Voldemort to be twisted and turned into a mockery of his former self. The same brother you shunned along with your parents growing up."

Regulus's frown deepened, and he narrowed his eyes. "Yes, I was a part of that," he said. "But Sirius is a Black, born and raised. He belonged with his family. The healers stated that the stress of what Sirius had done was a primary factor in our father's death. His leaving nearly tore our family apart, and I would not sit back and watch him cause my mother's death too."

"Sirius's choice was his own, and no one in your family had the right to change it," Dumbledore said, infuriatingly calm but still stern.

Regulus took a calming breath. He was not here to argue this point. "That is in the past," he said. "What is done is done. But now I must speak with Sirius. There is a matter of grave importance that I need to discuss with him."

"Your brother, as you well are informed, is no longer a Death Eater. He is no longer Voldemort's General, and he will not discuss matters of his with you."

"I am not here on Death Eater business," Regulus said. "I am not so stupid as to think that would work. What I have to discuss with my brother is business of my own."

"I must disappoint you, Regulus," Dumbledore said. "You will not be speaking with your brother any time soon."

Regulus was angry enough to curse the old man, despite the rational portion of his brain assuring him that he would lose before he lifted his wand. Dumbledore might have been an old blood traitor, but he was no fool, nor was he weak. Regulus was a Slytherin, and Slytherins knew when they were faced with something they couldn't win. Regulus could not win a duel against Albus Dumbledore.

But Regulus desperately needed to speak with his older brother. He could not give in so easily. "I admit to you here and now that I am a Death Eater, and that I am knee deep in the Dark Lord's work. I am every bit the Dark wizard Sirius so passionately hated once. But that does not change the fact that I am still Sirius's younger brother. He is my family, and it is a matter of grave importance that I speak with him."

Dumbledore regarded him passively over his half moon spectacles. "What is this matter, Regulus?"

Regulus immediately scoffed, "That is not your business."

"But I am afraid I must ask. If you wish to have an audience with Sirius, then you will tell me the nature of the discussion," he said.

"I don't trust you," Regulus said.

"If you cannot trust me," Dumbledore said, "then I cannot be expected to trust you."

"Fair enough," Regulus said. "But I cannot tell you. This is a matter that I will speak of only to my brother and none other."

Dumbledore shook his head, his long silver beard swaying gently with the movement. "Then I must ask you to leave the castle grounds, Mr. Black. I will not permit you to see Sirius, so now your business here is complete."

Regulus fumed, "Who are you to dictate who he speaks with?" Dumbledore did not answer him but merely motioned calmly towards the gates. Regulus uncharacteristically growled at him. Appealing to Dumbledore had been his only chance of speaking with Sirius, Dumbledore who was so well known for his trusting nature. Regulus knew better than to think he could simply send in an owl or place a fire call.

Without another word, Regulus turned on his heel and stormed from the grounds. He literally stomped past the Aurors and to the nearest Apparition point. With a flick of his wand, he arrived at the park across the street from his family home. Regulus walked inside the Unplottable old manor. He maneuvered down into the kitchen and fell into a chair. His mother's favorite house elf walked up. "Master Regulus," Kreacher said kindly. "Master looks most displeased. Master would like some tea?"

"Yes, Kreacher, thank you," Regulus said, rubbing his temple with a hand. The elf quickly made up a batch of Regulus's favorite tea and placed the cup before him. Regulus thanked him again and took a small sip, gratitude swelling as he realized the elf had added a headache remedy to the tea.

Sirius had never liked Kreacher, even after his turning. Kreacher had always been so devoted to their mother, and Sirius had hated him while living in Grimmauld as a boy. Some of that seemed to have transferred after Sirius had taken over the family. Of course, Kreacher had seen how happy Walburga had been to have Sirius acting properly that the elf had never dared show Sirius disrespect again. Although Sirius could never say anything against Kreacher's devoted service, he had never liked the elf.

Regulus had never fancied the way house elves behaved. He did not mind having them act as servants, but he had never liked the way they abused themselves when their masters weren't pleased. He had never given it much thought until one day when he was seven. One of the elves had so displeased his father, Orion, that, after Orion had administered punishment, the elf had abused itself so severely that it had died. Regulus had been the one to find it. His great aunt Cassiopeia, who Sirius had always rightly pegged as insane, had been the one to explain graphically to Regulus that the elf had used a slow and excruciating poison. After that, Regulus had been nothing but nice to the elves.

As he slowly drained his tea, Regulus contemplated the situation. The house, thankfully, was empty. Sirius was at Hogwarts, Harry and Atria with him. The Dark Lord himself had killed Adrienne when she had failed to present a location of the children. Regulus still cringed with the memory. All of the family had been punished most severely for the disappearance of Sirius's children. Regulus's own children were all at Hogwarts, and Megara was visiting her cousins in Spain. Bellatrix would be at the Dark Lord's side, and Rodolphus not far behind. Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco would be at their own manor. Regulus had all the time in the world to sit and think.

Perhaps he should have told Dumbledore exactly what he wished to discuss with Sirius. It would have made things far easier, but Regulus simply did not trust him. For Regulus to simply follow this line of thinking was enough for the Dark Lord to kill him. Regulus could not speak to just anyone. He needed someone he trusted fully. And he had come to trust Sirius greatly in the past twenty years.

Regulus did not know exactly when he had begun to think these things again. He supposed it had been around the time James Potter had successfully captured Sirius and brought him to Dumbledore. But it was not the first time. Regulus had entertained these thoughts once long ago, when Sirius had still been an Auror.

Years ago, before Sirius had been turned by the Dark Lord, Regulus had questioned his decision to enter into the ranks of the Death Eaters. For some reason he had never been able to pinpoint, Sirius's words had been ringing through his head. Sirius had, ever since befriending the other Gryffindor boys and Lily Evans, always snapped back when their parents or Bella talked down about blood traitors and Mudbloods. Sirius had never stood for the insults against his friends, even at the cost of punishment. Regulus had never participated in the debates, and he had never really agreed with the things Sirius said, but he had always been impressed and even awed at Sirius's bravery. It took a lot to stand up alone against a roomful of Death Eaters while waving Dumbledore's flag. But Sirius had always done it, and he had never flinched.

Regulus had begun to wonder if he had made the right choice in receiving the Mark. There had been no end to the war in sight, no leverage on either side, but something had stirred in Regulus and made him question his duty. He had begun to listen to the things the Dark Lord said, really hearing them for the first time. The Dark Lord's talk of immortality had truly frightened him. Regulus might have been fighting for him, but he could still easily see what a terror the Dark Lord was, and he could not imagine such a creature living forever.

The Dark Lord had spoken of the steps he had taken on the road to immortality. Regulus had begun his research. The Dark Lord, Regulus knew, would not use conventional magic. He would use old and dark spells, and the library in 12 Grimmauld Place had more books on such things than any sane human would wish to read. But Regulus had read them all, and he had come to a startling conclusion.

Horcruxes.

And not just one, but several. The Dark Lord, Regulus guessed, was splitting his soul, severing and twisting it beyond recognition and placing the pieces into valuable objects. Regulus well remembered the ferocity with which he attempted to discover the number and nature of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes. In the end, he had only been sure of two, and one was safely held in his cousin's home. The other had been much more difficult to find.

But when Bella's plan to capture Sirius had been perfected, Regulus had abandoned his obsession with his master's Horcruxes in favor of returning Sirius to the family. With Sirius on their side, Regulus felt reassured. The voice whispering inside of his head had all but disappeared. Occasionally, it reared its head and hissed that Regulus was wrong for deceiving his brother, but Regulus had not wanted to lose the relationship he had gained with Sirius. Ever since Regulus could remember, he and Sirius had been at odds. They had never behaved as brothers should. Sirius had never considered Regulus his true brother. He had given that honor to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, all unworthy. A blood traitor, a half-breed, and a half-blood. But when the Dark Lord had taken Sirius's memories, Regulus had finally found his brother treating him as family. It had been nice.

Of course, that was all down the drain now.

Regulus had not thought of the Horcruxes in nearly twenty years. But for weeks now they had been in the forefront of his mind. It had taken all of his skills in Occlumency to hide these things from his master, nearly exhausting him physically. He was falling back into his obsession. Megara was worried about him. Of course, he did not share his thoughts with her. He didn't trust her with this, and there was no need to bring her into it. If she honestly knew nothing, then there was a chance the Dark Lord would let her be, if he were to find out the line of Regulus's thoughts. Regulus had grown very fond of his wife in their years of marriage, and of their children too. For their sakes, he knew that he should abandon all thoughts of the Horcruxes, but he found that to be impossible.

Why should it concern him? He was a Black. He was supposed to be all for the purification of the wizarding race. He was supposed to believe in the complete superiority of pure blood over that of the half-bloods and Mudbloods. He was supposed to hate all things Muggle. And a part of doing this was to devote his talents and loyalty to the Dark Lord.

So why did Regulus feel this way? Why did he question the methods of his master? Why did he cringe when ordered to perform an Unforgiveable? Did Regulus question his pureblood supremacy beliefs or only the techniques of the Dark Lord?

Regulus sighed, running a hand through his dark hair and wondering if Sirius's true beliefs had been the right ones all along. Was it really so wrong to have Muggles running around, occasionally producing a magical child? Pureblooded wizards were becoming fewer and fewer with each decade. Soon the only way to keep things pure would be to marry inside of the family, and Regulus had seen what that had done to some families; the Guants were a prime example. The Blacks had been lucky to have never been physically plagued with the negative side effects of near incestuous marriages, but they had certainly felt the blow in their unstable temperaments. Black tempers were notorious, boarder lining on psychotic. For how much he cared for his family, Regulus would be a liar to say he had not noticed the near insanity of his mother, Bellatrix, and at times even Sirius.

As Regulus stared down at his teacup, his mind was again drawn to the Horcruxes. The more he pondered on it, the more the decision concreted in his mind. He had to do something. He could no longer sit by idly. He would act, and he thought, with a small, cheerless smile, that Sirius would be truly proud of him for the first time in their lives.

"Kreacher," he said, his voice low. He knew he would not need to call properly for the elf. Kreacher was quite devoted to him and would not have left his side unless ordered or convinced that his dear mistress's son was all right.

"Master Regulus," Kreacher responded immediately.

Regulus tore his grey eyes from his tea and looked down to the elf. Kreacher's wide brown eyes were staring up at him, shining and eager to do whatever Regulus asked. And Regulus knew that Kreacher would do it, even if he had not been bound by the magic of the house elves.

"Kreacher," Regulus said, his voice surprisingly steady, "I need to ask a great favor of you."

* * *

"What do you think of this one," Ginny asked, pulling out a lovely jewel encrusted tiara.

"I don't know," Tonks said nervously as Lily shifted through the shoes next to her.

"Come on, Tonks," Ginny said in exasperation. "You saw what the quiz said. A tiara is a must have accessory!"

"I can't believe you turned up as a romantic bride," Lily said, referring to the bride type quiz the girls had found in a bridal magazine a few days pervious. "I was thinking for sure you'd turn up as glamorous or modern, probably modern."

"Can't a girl like a shameless romance novel and still wear combat boots," Tonks asked with a grin.

"Of course," Ginny said, "and you can wear a tiara." Ginny then positioned the accessory on Tonks's head and spun her to look in the mirror. Tonks eyed the glittering jewels with apprehension.

"You could always try one of these smaller ones," Hermione said, holing up a piece that was a third of the size of the one currently resting in Tonks's pink shock of hair. She smiled as she saw Tonks's eyes flash, returning to her favorite shade of violet, a telltale sign that she was pleased.

Ginny took the smaller piece, tossing the one she had found back at Hermione. She considered it for a moment. "Tonks, grow out your hair," she commanded. "And make it wavy." Tonks scrunched up her face, and a second later, her hair fell down her shoulders in brown waves. When Hermione was in a mood to attempt styles with her hair, she always was jealous of Tonks. It took Tonks literally a second and a bit of concentration to have the perfect look for whatever occasion. Ginny fingered the longer locks. "Are you going to wear it naturally," she asked.

Tonks twirled a piece around her finger. "I was thinking so," she said. "At least for the ceremony."

Ginny nodded and began to arrange Tonks's hair, holding it up with her hand. She switched things up a few times before settling on what would, with proper sprays and pins, be a loose, messy, but sexy up-do, and then she placed the small tiara in place. Tonks grinned at the sight, her fingers tapping against her lips. "What do you think," Ginny asked. "Good idea?"

"I think that you are far more talented than I when it comes to hair styling," Tonks said as Ginny released her hair. "It's definitely something to consider."

Ginny then produced a large binded folder. She flipped through the endless pages and plucked a quill from behind her ear. She scribbled some notes down and closed the massive binder. Ever since she had been asked to both attend the wedding and participate in the bridal party, Ginny had taken great initiative into helping Tonks prepare for her big day. Hermione and Lily had been only too happy to tag along on shopping trips.

Ginny's folder, which she had said she had been preparing for years, was a vast encyclopedia of matrimonial knowledge. It covered everything anyone could possibly imagine would be needed for a wedding and then some. It covered all case scenarios. Hermione had been very impressed. She didn't think even her N.E.W.T. notes had been so well organized and detailed. Ginny had made sections devoted from everything to dresses, shoes, and jewelry to music, drinks, and photographers. She had sections on churches, gardens, beaches, and even galleries. She had clippings of flower arrangements of every color and plate setting ideas for receptions. She had made seating charts (for her own undetermined wedding, of course) and had several ideas for bachelorette parties. All in all, it was a masterpiece.

Ginny had added a new section to the back that served as the planner for Tonks's wedding, and, teasingly, she had added one for Hermione. Hermione smiled. Of course, Ginny didn't know about Harry, but the red head had told her that the second Hermione gave her some clue that she had found her Mr. Right, Ginny would be all over the wedding plans. However, Ginny wasn't dishing out this type of help to Fleur, but that was simply because she didn't much care for the Frenchwoman.

Ginny slipped the binder back into her bottomless purse. A passing Muggle woman stared in complete awe, but Ginny paid her no mind. "So, what's next," she asked Tonks. "Do you want to keep looking at jewelry?"

Tonks glanced down at her watch. "We can browse for a bit more," she said. "We aren't due to the bakery for another half hour."

Lily grinned. "Cake tasting is the best part of the planning," she said wisely.

"You just have a deplorable sweet tooth," Hermione said as she flipped through a stray magazine. Lily grinned brazenly.

Over two hours later, the women arrived at a very formal shop on the search for Tonks's wedding dress. They had spent well over an hour at the bakery testing out numerous flavors of cakes and icings, Ginny scribbling notes down like lightning as they went. It had been as fun as Lily had said it would be and extremely difficult for Tonks to choose. "You still have a month. Although waiting a whole month would really be pushing it. Did I mention that my mother offered to bake you a cake?"

Tonks looked up from the rack of clothing, a surprised look on her face. "Your mother is the nicest woman in the world, I swear! That's wonderful of her to offer, she certainly didn't have to," Tonks said graciously, but there was a gleam in her eyes that said she would love nothing more than to gorge on one of Molly's delightful cakes.

Ginny caught the look immediately. "You know my mum," she said, quill out and book in hand. "She'd love nothing more than to do it. Considered yourself caked!" The women laughed and continued to pour through the dresses.

Although she often stared longingly at the more lavish dresses, Tonks stayed safely among the racks of simple, reasonably priced dresses. Hermione noticed. "You know, Tonks," she said, fingering the silk ribbon on one dress, "the quiz said the romantic bride should wear a ballroom gown, like Cinderella. Why don't you go take a look at those?"

"Oh, no," Tonks said. "Those are too expensive."

"Didn't Ted say that he wasn't putting a price on this wedding," Lily asked, her red head peeking over the rack.

Tonks shrugged with a smile. "Dad did say he didn't mind spending the money, but I really can't ask too much of him." Hermione spared a glance at Lily and Ginny. Andromeda had taken her all her money when she had been kicked out of the Black family, and Ted's job had always paid handsomely. Not to mention, Tonks's paycheck as an Auror was substantial enough. Tonks could well afford to have a lavish wedding, but all of her decisions thus far had been very cost efficient.

Tonks dropped into a chair, a hand still clutched around the train of the dress she had been observing. "When I was little, my mum used to fill my head with stories of parties and weddings that were filled with silks and lace and jewels. It was the only girly thing that I ever took to." She chuckled. "I still wish I could have my dream wedding, but I don't need it." Then she stood, smiling. "You know, I think I'll wear Mum's dress."

"Are you sure, Tonks," Hermione asked as they followed her from the store.

Tonks smiled brightly. "Of course, Hermione," she said. "For all I care, I could wear ripped jeans and an old t-shirt, just so long as I've got Remus on my arm at the end of the day."

Lily flew at Tonks, stopping the girl in the middle of the street and locking her into a tight hug. "Oh, Tonks," she cried happily, "you're going to be so good to that old stiff!"

Tonks returned the hug, Hermione and Ginny beaming at them. "I love him," Tonks said. "For whatever reason. He's so boring!" She winked, and Lily released her, still smiling proudly. Tonks glanced down at the small diamond on her finger. Remus had said it once belonged to his mother. "I only need the ring," she said, and then she looked up, grinning mischievously. "And the hot werewolf sex afterwards!"

Slapping their hands over their mouths, Ginny and Hermione squealed, half appalled to think of their former professor in that light and half amused and intrigued. Lily laughed uproariously. She linked arms with Tonks and Hermione, who quickly grabbed hold of Ginny as Lily led the way down the street. After a few moments, Ginny, no longer able to resist, asked, "So, how _is_ Remus in bed?"

* * *

Ron Weasley practically flew through the halls of St. Mungo's. He had gotten the fire call at his office not three minutes ago. It hadn't taken much more than four seconds for him to leap from his chair as though he were on fire. A few co-workers had cried out in alarm, thinking there was an attack. Ron really didn't care what they thought or if they would be angry with him later for getting them into a state.

All that mattered right now was that Bill was in the hospital.

Ron didn't know the details. The fire call from the twins hadn't been that specific. They had merely said there had been a battle and Bill was hurt. They might have told him more, but Ron was out the door and running to the Apparition points. He had paused his mad rush only for a moment to ask the woman at the front desk for his brother's room.

Ron skidded to a shrieking halt outside of room 1.37. Fred and George were standing outside waiting for him with Ginny. His younger sister immediately enveloped her older brother in a tight hug. Ron returned the gesture, kissing the top of her head. "How is he," Ron asked the twins. "What happened? Can we go inside?"

"One at a time," Fred said.

"We think he's going to be all right enough," George said.

"Enough," Ron asked.

"There was a battle," Ginny said, "in a Muggle park in Manchester. Some of the Order members got summons, so Bill went."

"What did they hit him with," Ron asked the twins. Ginny's eyes had started to tear, and she was biting down on her lip.

"More like who," George growled darkly. Ron's eyes widened. There were so many possibilities of what that could mean. They flew through his mind like a tornado. He was hardly able to grasp one before it was rushed away and replaced by another, equally terrorizing.

Fred ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in odd directions. "Greyback," he said harshly.

Ron couldn't help but wince. He'd seen Greyback during a raid once before, and he had grown up hearing of his barbaric reputation. Greyback was the leader of Voldemort's werewolves, and he was a nasty piece of work. On nights nearing the full moons, Ron and his siblings had always been given the strictest of instructions to remain locked safely in the house before the sun set. The twins had snuck out once when they were about eight, unable to resist the temptation of rule breaking. Ron vividly remembered how furious his parents had been. He'd never been more scared of his mother than at that moment, and she hadn't even been yelling at him. Needless to say, no Weasley ever ventured out of the house again at night. Greyback specialized in biting children to collect more followers while they were still young and could be taught to hate purebred humans.

With a grimace, Ron asked, "So, what spell was it?"

"Spell," Ginny said with a bitter laugh. "There was no spell. That bastard attacked Bill with his fucking teeth."

The blood rushed from Ron's face. "He bit him," he said in a near whisper. The twins nodded gravely. Ron tightened his hold on his sister. "But the full moon—"

George shrugged. "We don't really know," he said. He spared a tired glance to the door of Bill's room. "Remus is in there now with Mum and Dad. We can go back in when he's done."

Ron nodded, patting Ginny's back in a soothing manner. "Where's everyone else?"

"Charlie's on his way. It'll take him just a bit longer to get through customs. Percy went to collect Fleur from the Burrow," Fred responded.

Silence filtered around them. Fred and George leaned against the wall, staring at each other and silently communicating as only twins could. Ginny rested her head on Ron's shoulder, occasionally furiously wiping away tears. She was angry at herself for crying, angry at Greyback, and angry at the war.

It was a few minutes before the door opened. The youngest four Weasleys leapt to attention as Remus Lupin stepped out. They immediately bombarded him with questions. "Whoa," Remus called in alarm, holding up his hands as if to fend them off.

The Weasleys retreated just a few inches. "Well," Ginny demanded.

Remus smiled at them gently. "Bill's going to be fine. He'll be scared for the rest of his life, but the curse won't have transferred. It would only transfer if Greyback had been in the wolf form." Bill's siblings released deep sighs of relief. Remus's smile widened. "He's up if you're ready to go in," he said, nodding as the four shot him grateful grins. "He'll be fine. He just might like rare steaks now."

The twins, Ron, and Ginny burst into the room. Molly was crying loudly, Bill was locked in her tight grip, and Arthur was smiling. "Molly, the boy needs to breathe," her husband reminded. "He's turning purple."

Molly released her hold with a startled gasp, and Bill looked at his father gratefully. Ron winced at the bloodied bandages on his face. Ginny yelled, "Bill," and ran full speed for her eldest brother. She launched into his waiting arms. "You jerk," she said, pounding a light fist on his shoulder. "You gave us a right scare. You do something like this again, and I'll cut your hair in your sleep!"

Bill smiled, wincing slightly as the movement stretched his wounds. "Come on, Gin," he said. "I was counting on you to stay on my side." The twins and Ron stepped forward, ruffling their brother's long hair and clapping him on the shoulder.

"Charlie's on his way," Fred said. "And Perce is getting Fleur." Ron noticed that Bill bit slightly at his bottom lip. It was hard to properly read his expression under the bandages and blood, but Ron thought he almost seemed worried. Molly stiffened at the mentions of the Frenchwoman.

When Charlie walked into the room, his eyes shined with relief seeing that his older brother was up and talking. Due to their age proximities, Bill and Charlie had always been very close, the closest of the Weasley children, excluding the twins.

Hardly a moment later, the door burst open so fast and loud that nearly everyone in the room fumbled for their wands. In the doorway stood Fleur Delacour. Her long blonde hair was disheveled, standing up oddly around her headband. Her eyes were on fire, and most of the Weasley men took an unconscious step back. Percy was standing meekly behind her. "Where ees 'e," Fleur screamed. No one had ever seen Fleur so livid. Charlie immediately retreated from the bedside, dragging the twins away with him and leaving Bill exposed.

Fleur's eyes flashed, and she stalked forward. Before she reached Bill's bedside, Molly moved to stand in her path. "That's far enough," the elder woman hissed.

"_Pardon_," Fleur asked aghast.

"You heard me," Molly said. "My baby boy has just been injured. Who do you think you are to run in here screaming like a madwoman?

"I zink zat I am 'is fiancée," Fleur cried. She noticed a glint in Molly's eyes. Her own widened, and she gasped. Indignantly she cried, "You zink zat would change? You zink zat because 'e was bitten zat I would not love 'im, zat I would not marry 'im just because 'is face 'as changed?" She pushed Molly aside and looked down at her fiancée's bloodied face.

With a huff and a flip of her long hair, she said, "Eet does not matter. I am good looking enough for ze both of us, I zink." She then plucked a moist rag from Molly's slacked grip and began to gently dab at one of the still bleeding wounds. With a quick but tender menstruation, she wiped a bit of blood from Bill's nose and kissed it, all the while muttering loving words in French.

"Fleur," Molly said sharply. The Frenchwoman looked up, her hand still caressing the side of Bill's face. She arched an elegant brow expectantly. Molly then pulled the girl into a tight hug. "Welcome to the family," she said. Fleur hugged her back, her radiant smile returning.

"_Merci_," she said, returning her attentions again to Bill, who had laced his fingers with hers, absently fiddling with the small diamond he had recently placed on her finger.


	34. The Path Towards Immortality

**Chapter 34**

James Potter walked through the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Although this was a common occurrence, it never stopped the students from staring at him. James was famous. Years ago, after Sirius had disappeared, James had enrolled into the Auror program. Someone needed to fill the gap that Sirius's capture and turning had left gaping in the ranks. James had done his job, and he had done it well. He had personally felt the hurt of Voldemort and the Death Eaters' work for years. His parents and so many friends had been killed. His best friend had been twisted and used. His own family had been hunted. James had refused to let it happen to others without doing all that he could to stop it.

James had thrown himself into the roll as thoroughly as Sirius had when he had entered the Auror program not even a month after graduation. James remembered teasing him about it. Although the war had been going on while they were in school, although they had read the papers and heard their parents talking, although Dumbledore had spoken to them about his Order, none of them had felt touchable at Hogwarts. They had been young and on top of the world. They had had everything going for them. James had proposed to Lily their last night in the castle. They had all known that they would stay in touch and close for the rest of their days. They had known that they would go out and fight against the Death Eaters. They just hadn't figured the war could ever touch them so personally.

Sirius had given his job as an Auror his all. Of course, he had always made sure to attend dinner with the Potters when he was called for. He was always ready to watch Harry for a couple of hours while Lily and James needed a break. He had laughed, and he had joked. He had gone out drinking with his friends and picked up women for one night stands (he never had been much for serious dating). But when he was on call, there were no jokes, no smiles. Sirius had grown up as the heir to the darkest wizarding family of them all. The Blacks and their in-laws had always been knee deep in Voldemort's plan. Sirius had known exactly what they were all capable of, and he had been determined to stop it. He had climbed the ranks quickly and had gained great fame in the eyes of the public. James had fought in a more undercover manner, always appearing when Fawkes brought word.

But when Sirius had been taken and turned, something had to be done. With that one blow, Voldemort had torn a gaping hole in the ranks of the Aurors that equated to the deaths of several Aurors. It had been a substantial loss. So many were frightened. Becoming an Auror gave your name to the Death Eaters. It was viewed more often than not as signing a death warrant, not only for the potential member, but for his or her family too. Not many were willing to take the risk. Not many were strong enough to take the risk. The Auror ranks were thin, far too thin.

Lily had understood James's decision all too well. She might have gone into the program herself if she hadn't become pregnant with Olivia. But she had been forced to maintain her sidelines position, only coming to battle when Fawkes called for her.

James had received an owl from Dumbledore at his office asking for a quick visit. It might have been suspicious. There was no concrete proof that the Order of the Phoenix existed. Of course, there were rumors. There were rumors of the most flamboyant sort. The ones closest to the truth pegged Dumbledore as the leader and the Potters right in the thick of things. They at least had those facts right. But they had no hard evidence, no matter how often James was seen in Hogwarts.

James might have been reprimanded by Ministry officials for his constant meetings with Dumbledore if it weren't for the fact that Alastor Moody was the head of the Magic Law Enforcement Department. James himself was head of the Aurors.

James approached the stone gargoyle that hid the staircase to the headmaster's office and said, "Toothflossing Stringmints." As he stepped onto the ever-rotating staircase, James smiled with nostalgia. Dumbledore always used candies, both Muggle and magical, as his office passwords. Not many students were ever sent to his office enough to understand the pattern. By their fifth year, teachers had stopped telling the Marauders the password when they were sent to the headmaster. The boys knew the drill. James had far more than a handful of memories of him and his friends standing before the gargoyle, streams of sweets names leaping from their tongues. The one who guessed had always been rewarded in some way, usually in the form of Honeydukes candy or a free drink at the Three Broomsticks.

When he knocked, James was granted entrance. He stepped inside to see Sirius and Hermione seated in two of the chairs before Dumbledore's desk. They turned over their shoulders to look at him. Sirius's face remained impassive, but Hermione smiled warmly. "Hello, James," she said. James returned her greeting, nodding to the other two men in the room. Hermione stood from her chair. "I'll look into it, Professor," she said. She smiled at James again as she slipped out the door. James assumed she was heading back to the Blacks' suite to try and speak with Harry.

James could hardly think of Harry as his son anymore. In fact, he hadn't really thought that since Harry was still young. Of course, Harry would always biologically be his son, but Sirius had raised him. Sirius was the one who had all of Harry's love and loyalty. Sometimes, when James was in a particularly brooding mood, he was jealous and even angry at Sirius. Well, not at Sirius, but at the General and at Voldemort. It hadn't been Sirius's fault.

James could tell that Sirius and Hermione had been discussing Harry with Dumbledore. It was a given. Harry was the only thing the two had in common. Lily often scolded him for it, but James loved to watch Sirius fight with the girl. Unlike Sirius, Hermione wasn't quick to anger, but she had a sharp tongue. Something about their personalities just grinded each other.

James took a seat in the chair Hermione had just vacated. Dumbledore was quick to the point. "Tell me, what do you know about Horcruxes?"

James arched a brow and blinked. "Hor—what," he asked, but Sirius had sat straighter, a feat James had not thought possible. Sirius's eyes narrowed and his lips thinned.

"Sirius," Dumbledore asked, having noticed the younger man's tense posture.

James glanced at Sirius as the other answered, "To make a Horcrux involves some of the darkest and oldest of magics. It is the worst of magical inventions, created only by the act of ultimate evil."

"So, what exactly is it," James asked. "What does it look like?" He didn't need to ask about what the ultimate evil act was.

"It can look like anything," Sirius said.

"Well, that doesn't help much," James said.

Dumbledore took over. "A Horcrux is made by the act of murder. The very soul is shattered into pieces, and the pieces are placed inside of an object."

James frowned. "So, it's housing a soul?"

"A piece of it, yes," Dumbledore said.

"What's the purpose of it," James asked.

"Immortality," Sirius said distantly.

Dumbledore nodded. "If a piece of someone's soul is hidden safely inside of a Horcrux, then even if the body is destroyed, that person would still live."

"And he's making them," James said. It was a statement, not a question.

"For years, I believe," Dumbledore answered.

James drew in a steady breath. This was unsettling, to say the least. Voldemort was threatening enough when he was just relentless and dominating madman. Adding immortality to the mix was something that James did not want to consider. "So, how do we find these things and get rid of them," he asked. Both Sirius and Dumbledore were silent. James was struck with a thought. He paled and said, "They can be destroyed, right?"

Sirius's frown deepened but Dumbledore assured him, "Yes, James. There is a way."

"Then what do we do?"

"Therein lies the problem," Sirius said. "Horcruxes are made from objects of the maker's choosing. They can be almost anything."

"Almost," James asked. Dumbledore too was listening intently to Sirius.

"It's not like a Portkey," Sirius said. "A Horcrux is housing a soul. The maker would not want it to be accidentally destroyed. It would be made from an object that holds significant value, most likely to the world to ensure that it wouldn't be destroyed if it got into the hands of some ignorant person." His eyes narrowed, and Dumbledore prompted him to continue. James frowned. Although it was realistic, he didn't like to think that Dumbledore didn't know everything about something. Even more disturbing to him was that it was Sirius who knew more of this Dark form of magic.

"A Horcrux can be a living being. It could be a person," he said.

James was mildly horrified. "You can forcibly shove a soul fraction into another body," he asked aghast. "What would that do?"

"Such a thing has not been documented, at least not in any book I have ever read," Dumbledore said. He looked to Sirius, and the younger man shook his head. "Sirius, do you know anything about Voldemort's Horcruxes?"

Just as he did every time someone mentioned the Dark Lord's created name, he hissed, "Don't say his name!" He stopped for a moment, shaking his head as though to clear it, but he did not apologize. "He often spoke of the steps he had taken to gain immortality. He said that there was no one who could best him. I had wondered what those steps were, but I never really looked too deeply into it. I didn't need to."

"I have been doing research into it," Dumbledore said. He motioned to the cabinet where the other two men knew he kept his Pensieve.

"Whose memories," James asked.

"A variety," Dumbledore answered. "Some yield answers, and some are frustratingly empty."

James crossed his arms, an almost childish expression of disappointment on his face. "So, what do we do?"

"I believe that for now all we can do is explore the possibilities," Dumbledore said. "We need more information, and we need to be certain. Failed attempts will only draw Voldemort's attentions." Sirius frowned, and James nodded. Dumbledore stood and removed his Pensieve from its cabinet. "Now, let us begin this investigation."

* * *

Hermione walked down the halls of Hogwarts. Classes had just begun a few minutes ago, and there was no one to see the many twists and turns she took to the corridor in which the Blacks now lived. She had just left a meeting with Dumbledore and Sirius. James had walked into the office, and Hermione had taken that as her cue to leave. They would have things to discuss about the war that weren't something she was entirely part of. Inner Circle or no, Hermione was not privy to all the information that Dumbledore shared. Right now, along with spell research projects she worked on with Lily, Hermione's main job was Harry.

It had been some weeks since Harry and Atria had been brought from the Black manor to Hogwarts. Sirius had explained to them the true nature of his position as the Dark Lord's general. It had been a plot by the Blacks and Voldemort to turn the tides of the war in their favor. It had been working slowly but surely for years. Although Hermione hadn't known about any of this until a few months ago, she was very glad James and Lily had managed to capture Sirius. It not only put her family out of danger, but it also gave their side of the war a very valuable asset.

And she and Harry were finally on the same side.

Or, they would be as soon as Hermione and Sirius could get Harry to talk to them about becoming a member of the Order and the details of the prophesy that had first fueled Voldemort to pursue the Potters so many years ago.

To say that Harry was reluctant to speak with his father and lover was an understatement. Harry was furious with the both of them. He was convinced that Hermione had been lying to him about Sirius's whereabouts for months and that Sirius had allowed the blood traitors to change him. When Hermione viewed the situation dispassionately, she could sympathize with Harry. It was only natural for him to feel the way he did. But Hermione did not often view it like that. She was heavily involved, and it grinded her temperament that Harry was being so uncooperative with them. Neither Hermione nor Sirius wished to send him off for the battle the prophecy claimed was imminent. It was an unfair thing. Harry was expected to face off against Voldemort, the most feared wizard in over a century, a cruel and diabolical madman, and someone Harry had been raised to serve unconditionally.

Hermione walked into the Blacks' suite. She didn't know how long Sirius would be detained with James and Dumbledore, so she decided to make good use of her time and try to get Harry to converse with her. It was a small miracle these days if he even said hello to her.

Hermione entered the sitting room. Harry and Atria were sitting on the couch drinking tea. They both looked up at her. Atria, who greatly distained Hermione, set down her cup and walked briskly into her room, the door nearly slamming shut behind her. Too old for such behavior, Harry regarded her for a moment with cold grey eyes. He then turned his attention back to his tea as though she had never walked in the room at all. Hermione drew in a calming breath and took a seat in Sirius's usual armchair.

She regarded him with an even gaze for a moment before speaking. "Hello, Harry." Predictably, he did not respond. Hermione refrained from sighing in irritation. He really was being very childish. "Harry, I would like to talk to you," she said. "I'm sure, even as angry as you are at your father and I, you can appreciate how important this is." Hermione winced. She sounded like she was his mother or something.

Harry did not speak, but his brow twitched. "Harry, this is a war. People are fighting everyday out there. People are dying. Your family is right in the middle of it. You have the chance to end all of this. I can't believe that you wouldn't want to take that chance. If I'm wrong, then I don't know how I fell in love with you."

Harry frowned and his eyes flashed over to her. He fixed her with a very pointed glare. Hermione met it with sheer stubbornness. "Well," she prompted. But Harry was still giving her the silent treatment. Hermione could hardly believe it. She had never gone so far as to question her relationship with him. For so many years, it had always been a constant in her life, an anchor, as strange as it was. She was surprised more than she cared to admit that Harry would sit and take the comment without so much as a word. It angered her enough to snap at him. "Your silence says it all." She stood abruptly and turned to leave.

"Oh, sit down, Muggle," Harry huffed. Hermione spun around to face him, her bushy hair flying. He was regarding her with his usual glare, and Hermione crossed her arms.

"I will do no such thing," Hermione said sharply. "You've got me angry enough that a huffy exit is quite in order."

"Oh, you're the angry one, are you," Harry retorted, standing to face her. "And I suppose that you lying to me about my father for months doesn't warrant a foul temperament?"

"Get off your high horse, Harry," Hermione said. "I wasn't lying to you. I was withholding information, but I never lied. I had orders from Dumbledore. We made this agreement when I joined the Order. We agreed to never tell secrets."

"And you knew how worried my entire family was over the loss of my father. You knew how upset I was," Harry yelled.

"I was told by Dumbledore and your father to not tell you anything until the time was right," Hermione snapped. "Your family was just upset because they had lost their precious weapon. Bellatrix, Lucius, and Regulus captured him and turned him over to Voldemort! He could have easily been murdered!"

"Don't speak his name," Harry thundered. Hermione did not back down. Lily and James were very adamant about speaking the Dark Lord's name rather than referring to him by the various epithets. They had been instilling this belief in Hermione in the months that she had become closer to them, and as Hermione greatly respected them, she intended to follow their example. "And don't talk about my family in such a manner."

"I'll stop when they prove to be something more than a load of traitors," Hermione growled. She and Sirius did not get along well, but Hermione could never condone what had happened to him. And she would stand up to that sort of treachery where she could.

Harry took several heavy steps, standing tall above her. His eyes flashed, and Hermione wondered if he would hit her. He certainly looked angry enough. "Do not speak about my family in such a manner ever again," he growled.

"Or what," Hermione challenged. "You'll hex me? You'll hit me?" Such things usually went against all of Harry's principles, and to call him on it had a calming effect on his temper. His posture became a little less threatening. Hermione drew in a deep breath, attempting to calm herself as well. "Harry, look at us. We have never acted like this to each other. This has got to stop."

Harry let out a slow breath through his nostrils, his lips pressed firmly together. "You must never lie to me like that again," he said after a moment.

Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled slightly. She would never convince him to not call her withholding of information a lie. He was too stubborn. But he was finally willing to move on. Things wouldn't go back to the way they had been right before Hermione had told Harry she could bring him to Sirius, but they could finally have some semblance of normalcy back in their relationship.

Hermione peeked up at Harry from under her bangs. She blinked wide eyes and stuck out her lower lip just slightly. Harry's face deadpanned. He frowned slightly, and Hermione stuck out her lips just a bit more. "For the love of Christ," Harry muttered. "Come on, then." Hermione grinned and jumped over to him, wrapping her arms securely around his waist. He looped his around her shoulders. "You are pathetic, Muggle."

"It worked, didn't it," she countered into his shirt. Harry didn't answer her.

A moment later, the door of the suite opened, and Sirius Black walked in. He regarded them for just a moment with an unreadable expression. Although he had seemed to accept Harry and Hermione's relationship, he had never actually seen them together. They had been fighting since Harry had come to Hogwarts. Hermione feared for a moment that seeing her in the embrace of his son would cause his quick temper to flare up and he might remember exactly why he wanted to kill her in the first place, and she felt the need to move away from Harry.

The air was tense. Harry's grip on Hermione tightened slightly, and he moved to position himself between her and his father. Finally, Sirius arched a brow and said, "So, boy, you finally managed to stop acting like a woman and get over yourself."

Hermione looked up in time to see Harry frown slightly. "He's right, you know," Hermione said. "You were acting a bit like a girl."

"I can stop talking to you again," Harry said plainly. Hermione nudged his side with her elbow.

Sirius frowned slightly at their small exchange, which Hermione knew he probably considered immature and unacceptable for a young man of Harry's upbringing. Hermione didn't concern herself with Sirius's opinions on the matter. According to James and Lily, he was becoming much more like his old self. He was still very much the Slytherin his family had reshaped him into, but he was coming around. They assured her that he was no longer filled with an urge to kill her. It was a small relief.

"Sit down," Sirius commanded. Harry and Hermione took a seat on the couch as Sirius planted himself in his armchair. He observed them for several moments. Harry stared back calmly, at ease with the circumstances. Hermione felt a bit nervous. It was an odd situation for her. Her family was talkative. They never sat in awkward silences. Her parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, they always had something to say. But the high class Slytherin society was different. They weren't open with each other. The head of the family was like a king. He had the final say in every situation. His word was law. And Sirius was more controlling and respected than most.

"We have things to discuss, Harry," Sirius said. "You have been acting in a manner completely unfit for the heir to the Black family. Your impudent behavior ends now. I have been lenient with you thus far because you were delivered seriously disturbing and mind blowing news, but that is over. Am I quite clear?"

"Yes, Father," Harry answered immediately.

"When we have finished talking, you will speak to your sister. Tell her what I have told you. She has been allowed to act like a child for too long. She grows near ten years old, and it is time for her to grow up."

"Yes, Father," Harry repeated.

Sirius nodded curtly. "You have had time to think," he said.

Harry nodded. "According to this so called prophecy, it is my duty to destroy the Dark Lord, that I am the only one capable of such a feat," he said. Sirius did not respond. He merely stared, waiting for Harry to continue. Hermione glanced back and forth between the two men. "Forgive me, Father, but I can't do it."

"Harry," Hermione began to protest. Sirius held up a hand sharply and effectively cutting her off. She fell silent.

Sirius turned his attention back to Harry. He fixed him with a firm glare. Harry continued, "The task you ask is impossible. The Dark Lord is the most powerful wizard in Britain. What chance do you think I have against him?"

"There is some power that you possess that he does not. This is what you will use to destroy him," Sirius said.

"And what power is this?"

Sirius only frowned. "We don't know," Hermione answered quietly.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Then it is of no help," he said. "I am to just be sent off to my death with no proper weapon, no real way to defend myself against him?"

"That's why we're looking into the prophecy," Hermione said. "We don't want you to get killed, Harry. We're going to figure this whole thing out. And you won't go alone." She placed her hand over his. Although Harry frowned at her, his eyes flashed for a brief moment.

Sirius ignored the exchange. "When you battle him, it will be during the final assault. I do not imagine that you will find him one on one. It will be a time when all his forces are sent to battle, and we will retaliate in kind. One side will win, and it will be the end of the war."

Harry's eyes bored into the fire blazing behind Sirius. "You speak as though I have agreed to this," he said, almost quietly. "I have been raised all my life to serve only the Dark Lord, and now I am expected to turn my back on this and attempt to kill him? Why should I? Why should I risk my life for Mudbloods and blood traitors and Gryffindors?"

A dark look on Sirius's face stopped Hermione from answering. The room was silent for several minutes, the only sound the crackling of the flames in the fireplace. Hermione stared at her hand that lay over Harry's. She didn't dare look up at Sirius. It wasn't that she had done something to offend him, but she didn't know how he would take Harry's question. It was so hard nowadays to determine his stance on Mudbloods and Gryffindor. At times, he seemed to hate them so much, but Hermione had seen him fight with Severus Snape at meetings over Slytherin principles, and she had seen the complete regret in his eyes the day he regained his memories, when he had slipped and called Lily a Mudblood.

Sirius's eyes remained dark. Looking at them, there could be none who mistook him for a man who had led an easy life. Sirius usual guarded himself well. But at that moment, his eyes shone with all the darkness of the war, this horrible war that he had been on the front lines of for over twenty years.

It was Sirius who finally broke the silence. "If you do not," he said, tilting his head towards Hermione slightly, "then she dies."

Hermione felt Harry tense. Despite how long they had been in the war, especially after Hermione had joined the Order of the Phoenix, they had never really discussed the high chance that one of them could be killed. Before James had captured Sirius, the general had kept his son close to him in battle. With Sirius over his shoulder, Harry's chances of death or capture were severely limited. Hermione had never been called to fight. She had only truly battled in that one fight that had exposed their secret relationship, and that had been only because she had been in the Alley at the moment of the attack. Hermione was not on battle call for the Order; she researched. Even after Sirius had put a death sentence on Hermione, through conversations transferred by Draco, Harry and Hermione had not truly felt she would be harmed. James Potter and Dumbledore himself had seen to her protection. With such backing, even Sirius could not reach her.

Harry had never feared death. He did not fear battle, and he did not fear to stand defenseless against an enemy wand. But he knew, perhaps had known since the day he met her, that he could not live in a world without Hermione. He refused, and he would not allow such a world to occur. If he fought for nothing else, he would fight for her.


	35. Cavern By The Sea

**Chapter 35**

The cave was everything and nothing that Regulus expected. It had been a dangerous climb down, one he did not dare use magic to accomplish. He had no idea what sorts of wards and alarms the Dark Lord had placed over the area. Kreacher had ridden down on his back, asking all the while for Regulus to please stop and allow Kreacher to Apparate them down safely. Regulus would have none of it, reminding the elf to be quiet patiently each time it spoke. The water was freezing, the waves churning and constantly threatening to either carry Regulus out to sea or to smash him against the sharp, protruding rocks.

He drew himself from the waters, shaking madly with the cold. Before he could order the elf not to, Kreacher snapped his fingers, and both he and Regulus were as dry and warm as though they sat before a roaring fire in the parlor room. Regulus was too grateful to be cross with Kreacher. He motioned silently, and they continued on. Regulus's sharp eyes darted every which way. He could not be sure what awaited them now that they had entered the cave, and he did not wished to be stopped before he had completed his task.

They came upon what looked to be a dead end. Kreacher made a small whimper of disappointment, but Regulus studied the cold rocks, his fingers trailing lightly over them. A small frown etched itself onto his handsome face. He stood in still contemplation for some time, ignoring Kreacher as he fidgeted nervously behind him. Finally, Regulus nodded. With a flick of his wand, he transfigured a small stone into a shining dagger. Kreacher realized his intentions a second too late. "Master, no," he cried as Regulus sliced the blade across his palm. Blood splattered over the stone.

Regulus winced slightly at the gash in his hand, but he turned a reassuring smile down to the house elf. "It's all right, Kreacher," he said. "We can get through now."

"Master Regulus, your hand, sir," Kreacher said.

"We don't have time, Kreacher," Regulus said, walking through the presented opening, Kreacher on his heels. The elf reached up and grabbed hold of Regulus's sleeve, stopping him. "Kreacher, please," Regulus started.

"Not until Master's hand is well again," Kreacher said firmly. Again, Regulus was touched by the elf's love and loyalty. He stood still and patient while Kreacher healed his hand as best he could. It was still red and scared, but at least the bleeding had stopped and the sharp pain dulled to a throb. Kreacher had even cleaned away the sticky mess.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Regulus said softly. "Let's go." They walked along a narrow and uneven path, sticking close to the rock wall. Regulus eyed the still waters of the lake warily. It was too still, he decided. There was something down there. Far out, in the middle of the too-still waters, there was a small island, hardly large enough for a dozen people to stand upon. In the middle, glowing with an eerie green that strongly reminded Regulus of the Killing Curse, was a pedestal, upon which sat a stone basin.

And there was his goal.

Regulus turned his attentions to the water line. He knew there was no way to summon the Horcrux. That would be far too easy. He could not levitate or fly across, again too easy. But there was something here, something hidden that the Dark Lord had placed to safely cross the lake. Regulus climbed over rocks, muttering the most advanced revealing spells that came to mind. Nothing was showing up.

"Master," Kreacher gasped. Regulus spun around to see the elf standing on the edge of the water, his toes hardly an inch from the frigid surface. Kreacher was leaning as far over the surface as he could without losing his balance, and he stared with eyes and mouth wide open.

"What is it, Kreacher," Regulus asked. He had told the elf to not touch anything without his master's consent first. Regulus's heart hammered, and he prayed the elf hadn't accidentally stumbled into something.

"Bodies, Master," Kreacher said aghast. "Bodies in the water!"

Regulus clamored over a particularly large rock and moved to stand next to the elf. He too leaned over the surface and could just make out the white, lifeless form of an Inferi floating just under the water. He drew in a steady breath. "We must now be extra cautious of this lake," he said. "And we'd do well to keep our voices low." Kreacher hunched his shoulders and bent his knees as though this physical action would help to minimize the noise in the cave.

Regulus continued his search. Other than rocks, the only thing on the shore was a rusted old chain. Being unnatural, it had Regulus's full attention. He tried pulling it, which yielded no results. After a variety of spells, a small wooden boat leapt from the water onto the shoreline. "Master has done it," Kreacher cheered in a whisper. Regulus lifted up the elf and placed him in the boat, climbing in afterwards.

The boat slid seamlessly along the surface, making hardly a ripple to disturb the unnaturally dark waters. The boat reached the island, pulling up to its small shore with a light thump. The intruders pulled themselves out. "Remember to watch the water, Kreacher," Regulus said as he stalked up to the pedestal. Closer to the bowl now, he could see a small goblet positioned beside it. He had the distinct feeling there was only one way to empty the bowl of its eerie potion, but he drew his wand and tried every spell he knew before he resorted to it.

When all his attempts came up futile, Regulus drew in a deep breath. His hands were shaking slightly, and his chest felt very tight. This was a very different feeling from Apparating into battle. In battle, there was still a chance that he would return home alive. It was different from standing before the Dark Lord on a bad day. Even then, there was the chance of forgiveness and favoritism, that the Dark Lord still had a use for the unfortunate soul cowering before him.

There was no escaping this. He knew it deep down in his gut. All he had ever done amounted to this moment.

The children were all safe at Hogwarts. He knew the Dark Lord would not be able to reach them to punish them for his actions. Megera was still in Spain. Perhaps Sirius would take care of his sister-in-law, perhaps not. Perhaps the Dark Lord would not even bother with her.

"Kreacher," Regulus said, not able to draw his eyes from the bowl, "I need you to listen to me very carefully. All of this is a direct order. You may not disobey."

"Of course, Master Regulus," Kreacher said immediately, drawing himself up.

"There is something very, very important in that bowl, but we cannot get it out until all of the potion is gone. The potion must be drunk."

"Yes, Master," Kreacher said. "Kreacher will drink it all."

"No, Kreacher," Regulus said firmly. "Listen to me. I will drink the potion." Kreacher stared up at him with wide, horror filled eyes. "You must not allow me to stop drinking the potion until all of it is gone. No matter what happens, I must drink all of the potion, Kreacher. Even if I tell you to stop, you cannot stop. Do you understand?"

Kreacher shook as he said, "Y-yes, Master Regulus."

"Very good," Regulus said. "When all of the potion is gone, you must reach into the bowl and take out the item that is inside. Keep it safe. Don't lose it. You have to go to Hogwarts and give it directly to Sirius. To Sirius and no one else."

"We, Master," Kreacher said. Regulus arched a brow. "We will go to Hogwarts, Master. Master Regulus and Kreacher. We will give Master Sirius the treasure."

"No, Kreacher," Regulus said, his head hanging. "I don't think I will go to Hogwarts. But you must. After I have drunk the potion, you must leave. You cannot stay. Take the boat back to the other side of the lake, and get out of the cave. Then Apparate away."

"Kreacher—Kreacher will do as—as Master says," Kreacher stammered. "Kreacher will get everyone home safe."

"The most important thing is the Horcrux," Regulus said. "It doesn't matter if you wake up all the Inferi, as long as you get out and get it to Sirius. If the Inferi awake, you have to leave immediately. Do you understand, Kreacher? You have to leave me here if I cannot get up myself." Kreacher did not answer. He only stared up at Regulus. "That is an order that you may not disobey, Kreacher."

The elf was too upset to actually speak. He was shaking violently as he nodded.

With a deep sigh, Regulus dropped down to Kreacher's eye level. "What you are doing is very important, Kreacher. It means more than the world to me. You have been the best of elves, and I thank you for all the years you have served my family."

Regulus stood and grasped the goblet in his hand. He filled it to the brim with the potion. "Oh, and Kreacher," he added, "when you get to Hogwarts, tell Sirius everything about this place. And tell him that I truly am sorry."

Kreacher watched in horror as his master drank down the contents of the goblet. His insides screamed at him to yank the goblet away from Regulus, to drink it all himself. He knew this potion was a bad thing. He knew it would hurt his master, but the younger son of his dear mistress had given him a very strict order. He could not break it.

Regulus lowered the goblet back into the bowl, gagging slightly at the foul taste. He had not downed the full contents before he collapsed to his knees, groaning in great pain. Kreacher rushed forward. "Master Regulus," he cried.

"I don't want to drink this," he muttered, clutching his stomach.

"Master must," Kreacher said, his big eyes spilling tears as he eased the goblet to Regulus's mouth. "Master must drink it all."

When the cup was empty, Kreacher jumped up to fill it once more. He brought the cup back to Regulus, who shrank away from it. "Master said it must all be gone. Drink, Master."

Regulus obeyed, his groans now becoming screams. "Get it away! Make it stop!"

Kreacher's heart broke as he forced the terrible potion into Regulus's mouth. He urged his master to swallow it all, that it would all be gone very soon. Then they would have the treasure and they could leave. Regulus begged for water, and Kreacher very much wanted to fill the goblet with it instead of the potion. But Regulus had said that the potion must all be gone first.

After what felt to Kreacher like an eternity, the goblet scraped the bare bottom of the bowl. This was the last of the potion. Everything was done. He gave it to Regulus, who moaned and fell in a heap to the cold ground. "Water, please," he murmured.

Kreacher snapped his fingers, but the expected water did not fill the goblet. He tried again and again, but nothing was happening. All the while, Regulus looked to be getting worse. Finally, Kreacher ran to the side of the island and plunged the goblet into the water. The water remained in the goblet.

Kreacher screamed as a long white arm burst from the water. All around, the cold bodies were coming up to the island. Kreacher ran back to his master and poured the water down his throat. "We must go now, Master Regulus," the elf cried, pulling on the man's arm.

The cool water had reinvigorated Regulus just enough that he lifted his head to look at Kreacher with clear eyes. "Leave now."

"Master—"

"NOW," Regulus thundered.

Kreacher sobbed as he leapt up to the basin, grabbing hold of a heavy locket and sprinting towards the boat. He scrambled inside. The boat began its smooth glide back over the lake. Kreacher peaked over the side. Regulus was surrounded by the Inferi. Kreacher could hardly see him.

The boat began to rock. Kreacher screamed and clutched the necklace tight to his chest as the Inferi attempted to clamor into the boat. Their cold and pasty hands clutched at the sides. Kreacher tried to kick at them, but they did not move.

A sudden burst of flames flew towards them, slamming into one of the corpses. Immediately, it, and all nearby, let go of the boat and fell into the water. Several more fire balls erupted around the boat. Kreacher was frightened, but the fire kept the monsters at bay. When the boat hit the shore, Kreacher scrambled out. He turned to the island just in time to see his master disappear under the surface of the water, Inferi crashing down around him.

Inferi were crawling up the shore towards Kreacher. He did not know where he found the strength to run from them. He raced down the stone path, jumping over rocks that tried to block his path. He held onto the locket in a vice like grip that death could not open. He stopped short at the archway that had let him and his master into the cave. It was blocked again.

It had opened only when Master Regulus had put blood on it. Without hesitation, Kreacher located a sharp rock and sliced his hand. He held it over the rock, and the blood fell onto the rock. Path clear, Kreacher ran out. Free from the confines of the cave, he Apparated away.

Kreacher reappeared in Hogwarts castle. He did not know where his master Sirius was, but he wasted no time searching for him. He ran about the halls, desperation building. Master Regulus had said that getting this locket to his brother was very important. Kreacher was feeling hopeless.

He arrived at an intersection that split off into five different hallways. Kreacher had already been through here. He recognized the picture of the drunken monks. He twisted the chain of the locket in his hands. He was lost. He was lost, and his master was gone. He couldn't find his mistress's first born. What was he to do?

Kreacher was merely seconds from bursting into a fit of tears when a young woman appeared. She was very plain with bushy hair, obviously some sort of impure specimen. Her brown eyes fell upon him and widened with concern. "Hello," she said tentatively. Kreacher stared back at her, twisting his body to shield the locket from her view. She was not deterred. "The house elves don't usually walk around the halls. Is something wrong?"

If nothing else, perhaps this girl could be of some use. She could at least show him where the blood traitor Dumbledore was. The old man knew where Master Sirius would be. "Dumbledore," he said.

"Dumbledore," she asked in surprise. "Something is wrong with Dumbledore?"

"Kreacher must see Dumbledore," the elf stated urgently. "Master sent Kreacher."

An odd look passed over the girl's face. "Kreacher," she asked. "Kreacher, which family do you work for?"

Kreacher frowned. "Kreacher will not tell the strange girl of his family! He will not! His family is most noble and pure. Kreacher will not tell!"

She lowered herself to his eye level. "Kreacher, you belong to the Blacks, don't you?" Kreacher did not answer her. "Who sent you here?"

"Kreacher will not tell the girl!"

She asked again, "Who sent you? Bellatrix? Narcissa? Or was it Regulus?" Kreacher could not help the wave of fresh tears that fell from his eyes at his late master's name. The girl looked very surprised. She asked softly, "You're looking for Sirius, aren't you?"

Now Kreacher was surprised. He knew that the blood traitors were keeping Master Sirius hidden at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had told Master Regulus. But there had been no gossip by other wizards in England. Very few people knew where the Dark Lord's General was or what had happened to him. Who was this girl who seemed to know?

The girl looked over her shoulders, eyes darting for any other signs of life in the corridors. When she found none, she leaned closer to the house elf. "Kreacher, if you can promise me that you aren't here to hurt Sirius or spy or anything like that, I can show you where he is," she said in a low voice.

"You will bring Kreacher to Master Sirius," Kreacher asked.

"You won't hurt him or anything," she asked warily.

Kreacher seized the opportunity. "Kreacher has a message. Very important message. Kreacher must see Master. Kreacher only wants to talk. Kreacher must. Master Regulus is counting on Kreacher!"

The girl looked convinced. She nodded and said, "All right, come with me." And she set off at a brisk pace down the halls. Kreacher followed her closely. It felt a long time before they came upon a large wooden door. The girl knocked and stuck her head inside. She said something in a hushed tone before opening the door wider. "Come on," she added to the elf as she entered the room.

The room was a sitting area, a common room for a large suite. It was lavishly decorated, as was all of Hogwarts. There was a fire roaring in the hearth. There was a dark haired, very handsome man sitting at a table, pieces of parchment scattered around him. His grey eyes darted up and widened in surprise. "Kreacher," Sirius asked.

"Master Sirius," Kreacher cried, and at the sight of him, the elf burst into tears. The girl knelt beside him and tried to soothe him. Sirius stood from the table and walked over. Kreacher stumbled forward, trying to bow.

"What are you doing here," Sirius asked bluntly.

Kreacher tried very hard to quell his sobs so that he could properly tell his master his story. "Sirius," the girl scolded. "He's upset!"

"How did he get here, Hermione," Sirius asked. "Why did you let him up?"

Hermione frowned. She planted her hand on her hips. "Look at the state of him," she said, waving a hand forcefully in the hysterical elf's direction. "He had some orders to see you. He promised that he just had a message."

"He has no reason to tell you any sorts of truths, you silly Muggle," Sirius snapped. He turned hard grey eyes back to his elf. "Kreacher, stop crying." Kreacher's sobs immediately stopped. He blinked waterlogged eyes up at his master. "Now, tell me why you're here." Kreacher bit down hard on his bottom lip, fighting to keep down the words. Master Regulus had said to only tell Sirius. He looked over at the girl. Sirius caught his movement and said waving in the direction of his son's room, "Hermione, leave. Now." She looked slightly put off, but Hermione walked out of the room.

"Master," Kreacher began, "Kreacher has come because Master Regulus has told him. Master Regulus told Kreacher to give this to Master." He held up the locket. Sirius's eyes widened slightly, but his face remained stone set. He took the locket into his own hands and inspected it for a long moment. He looked back to Kreacher, who answered without being told. "Master Regulus took Kreacher to a cave. It was a bad cave. It was the Dark Lord's cave." He described the terrible place to his master. He cried as he spoke of the Inferi in the water and the poison in the basin.

"Master Regulus would not let Kreacher drink the potion. Kreacher tried to tell Master that he would. Kreacher took the treasure just like Master Regulus said," Kreacher said, pointing to the locket dangling from Sirius's clenched fist. He began to sob again. "And Kre—Kreacher left Master Regulus just—just like Master Regulus said." He wailed into his hands.

"Regulus is dead," Sirius asked tightly. Kreacher nodded, too upset to speak. Sirius breathed heavily through his nose. "How did Regulus know to give this to me?"

"Master Regulus came to see Master, but blood traitor Dumbledore would not let him," Kreacher said.

Sirius frowned deeply. "Regulus was here?"

Kreacher nodded. "Master Regulus wished to talk to Master about the treasure, but the blood traitor turned him away," he accused.

Sirius's eyes turned very dark, and his face twisted with fury. Kreacher thought for a moment that his master was about to strike him, but then Sirius turned and grabbed hold of a vase and hurled it at the wall, where it exploded into a hundred shards before he upturned the table on which it had previously rested. Two doors flew open. Sirius's children and Hermione came running out. "Father," Atria asked in concern.

"What happened," Harry asked, eyeing the mess.

Sirius answered neither. Instead, he stalked to the door, wrenching it open. "What are you doing," Hermione cried aghast. "There are students out there!" He ignored her, slamming the door so forcefully behind him that it was a wonder it remained on its hinges.

Sirius stormed through the halls of Hogwarts, his footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. His mind was too clouded to be thankful that the students were all in classes. He met no interruptions as he came upon the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office. He snarled the password, and it leapt aside. Sirius continued his march up the rotating staircase. He did not bother to knock on the door. He threw it open with a great push.

The loud noise caused Fawkes to cry shrilly, and Dumbledore looked up from his desk, a look of surprise flashing across his face. "Sirius, what—"

"Are you insane, old man," Sirius thundered.

And still, Dumbledore was surprised. "What are you talking about, Sirius?"

Sirius stomped into the room. He brought his hand crashing down to the desk in front of the old headmaster. The desk creaked, and the wood surface was dented and scratched by the locket. Sirius stared at Dumbledore, his eyes blazing with blue fire as he pointed forcefully at the locket. Dumbledore drew in a sharp breath.

"Why did you not tell me that Regulus had come here," Sirius demanded.

Dumbledore's eyes flickered up to him. "How did you learn of his visit," he asked calmly.

"I learned when my house elf came into my suite, hysterical about my brother's death," he roared. "Regulus was going to find the Horcruxes to destroy them. He was coming to our side, and you sent him away! Tell me what Regulus said to you."

Dumbledore regaled the story, his voice very heavy. Sirius's temper jumped again. "This is all your fault! You sent my little brother to his death!"

Dumbledore hung his head. "I do not deny this," he said. "I know that any words I say will never make up for this."

"Your head on a platter might," Sirius snarled.

Infuriatingly calm, the old man asked, "Would you try to kill me for this?"

Sirius's fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his skin. Through gritted teeth, he said, "I would very much like to." Dumbledore only nodded in understanding. "What right did you think you had to deny my brother's audience with me? Who do you think you are?"

Dumbledore was wise enough to not make any mentions of how Sirius's words mirrored his brother's earlier ones. "I have made a grave mistake," he said instead. "I am human. I am not perfect."

"No shit," Sirius snapped. "This will not happen again, do you understand me? You will never again keep a member of my family from me, I don't care who it is." Dumbledore nodded. "You may be the leader of the Order, but you have no right to meddle in our personal lives."

Sirius's voice was tight. "Take your damned Horcrux," he said, turning and storming from the room. He stood seething at the bottom of the staircase for some time, tension building up. Finally, he turned and slammed his fist into the stone wall. He cursed bitterly. He'd surely broken his knuckles. Sirius only frowned at his hand, which was already beginning to swell. "Kreacher," he called.

In an instant, the elf appeared before him. His eyes were still rimmed with red. He bowed low. "Master?"

"Kreacher, go down to the dungeons and tell Severus Snape to collect Regulus's children. Then bring them up to my rooms. Do you remember how to get there?"

"Yes, Master, Kreacher knows," he said.

Sirius nodded, his throat suddenly closed. He walked away, the elf scurrying in the opposite direction. When Sirius arrived back in his rooms, Harry, Hermione, and Atria were still in the sitting room. The broken vase had been repaired, and the table was back on its legs. Harry stood from his seat. "Father," he asked.

Sirius moved to sit in his armchair. He leaned forward onto his knees, his grey eyes locked on the fire. After a moment, he rubbed his good hand over his face wearily. "Sirius, what happened to your hand," Hermione asked.

"Regulus is dead," Sirius said.

Harry stiffened and Atria gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "How," Harry asked. Sirius did not answer.

A few moments later, the door opened, and Kreacher led in two Slytherin children. Arcturus, the elder, was fifteen years old, his younger sister, Maia, only in her first year. They looked around with matching grey eyes curiously. They took notice of their cousins first. "Harry, Atria," Arcturus cried. The siblings ran to their cousins, Maia throwing her arms around them in a hug.

"What's going on," Maia asked. "Kreacher's brought us up here. I didn't know they had rooms like this at—Uncle Sirius!"

Sirius motioned to the children to all sit, and Arcturus and Maia settled themselves between Harry and Atria. Maia looked at her uncle curiously, but Arcturus was frowning deeply. Both knew better than to ask how he had gotten to Hogwarts and why. Sirius drew in a deep breath. "There is no simple way to tell you this," he said. "Very early this morning, your father was killed."

Their reactions were much like their cousins'. Leaping to their feet, Arcturus shouted, "Killed," as Maia pressed her hands tightly to her mouth, her eyes already watering. "What happened?" When Sirius did not immediately answer, the boy said, "Please, Uncle Sirius, tell us."

"He took it upon himself to begin weakening the Dark Lord's power. He stole something very vital, and the Inferi that guarded it drowned him," Sirius said a moment later. Maia began to sob, and Atria folded her into a tight embrace.

Arcturus was breathing heavily. "Why did he go against the Dark Lord? Was he a spy?"

"No," Sirius said. "He came to realize that the Dark Lord's way of thinking is not the correct one. That is all you need to know." Arcturus did not look satisfied. Sirius supposed he would not have been either, were he in the boy's place, but the entire story was not something for his ears, at least not yet. Some day, perhaps, when the war was over, Regulus's children could know exactly what their father had done.

"You're excused from your classes for the rest of the day, at least," Sirius said. "I'll write a letter to your mother and bring her in from Spain. She'll be given a room here for safety." He motioned with his head towards the bedrooms, and Harry gathered up his cousins and sister, escorting them away. Hermione slipped out of the suite, understanding that this was a family matter.

Sirius sat himself at his desk again. He reached for a blank sheet of parchment and began to write. He sealed the letter and charmed it with the old spell the Marauders had used so long ago to hide the secrets of their map. Megera would know the right words to open it. He sent the owl out the window, staring off after it long after it had disappeared from sight.

"Master," a quiet voice asked. Sirius almost jumped. He looked down to see Kreacher. He had forgotten the elf was still there. He arched a brow. "One last thing Master Regulus said Master should know."

"What," Sirius asked.

"He was sorry," Kreacher said simply.

* * *

"Are you insane," Draco Malfoy screamed at his cousin. Harry Black was leaning against the wall of the small room, attempting to hold himself up as he laughed heartily. Draco snarled at him. Several hours earlier, Kreacher, one of the Black family house elves, had Apparated into his room at the Malfoy Manor, stating that his kinsman wished a meeting with him. Draco had assumed this meant his mother's cousin Regulus.

Apparently, he was wrong to presume. Draco had shown up at the room at the Leaky Cauldron, unsure of why this was necessary. The Black house was more secure than most places in England. Whatever Regulus had wanted to discuss surely could have been spoken of there. The door had slammed shut behind Draco as he entered the room, and a figure in a dark cloak was awaiting him.

The man had burst from the cloak with a loud yell. The sudden and unexpected movement had caused Draco to nearly jump clean out of his skin. He had been even more shocked to see that the figure was Harry. Harry had been missing for weeks, along with his younger sister.

"It's not funny, you twit," Draco snarled. "Where have you been?"

Harry controlled himself long enough to ask, "Have you missed me, cousin?"

"Drop it, Harry," Draco snapped. "This isn't funny. The Dark Lord's furious that you disappeared. He killed Adrienne because no one could find you!"

Harry stopped laughing, but he did not look concerned. He held his nose in the air and said, "She was a worthless woman anyway. She would have been removed from the family soon enough even without his interference."

"That hardly explains anything," Draco said, crossing his arms and giving Harry a very pointed stare. Harry began to run a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up even more wildly, but he suddenly stopped and frowned. He flattened his hair down again and fixed his gaze on Draco.

"It's a long story," he admitted, humor finally gone.

Draco planted himself into one of the chairs by the table. He arched a brow. "I've got plenty of time," he stated, inclining his head slightly towards the other chair. Harry took a seat across from him and folded his hands over the tabletop. And everything he told Draco, Draco found he just couldn't believe.

"Hang on," Draco said, his fingers massaging his temples to relieve the pounding in his head. "So, what you're trying to tell me is that Sirius was once an Auror and you were born a Potter, but the Dark Lord stole the both of you to use as weapons against the other side, only his plans have failed because Sirius remembers everything again?"

Harry studied his nails lazily. "That pretty much sums it up," he said.

Draco ran a hand over his face. "Who put you up to this," he asked. Harry blinked at him. "Seriously," Draco said, "that story is too ridiculous. It makes no sense!"

A dark look crossed over Harry's face. "Tell me, Draco, do I look more like Sirius Black or James Potter?"

Draco regarded him for a moment before scoffing, "The Blacks have relations to the Potters that are not all that distant."

"And I just happened to be the only Black child that managed to get all those genes?"

Draco had no response, but he wished he did. He didn't want for this insane story to be true. He narrowed his eyes. "All right," he started, "let's say that this rubbish is all true. Why aren't you blowing anything up?"

Harry arched a brow. "I was told all of this weeks ago. I got the destructive anger out back then," he said. "Granted, I've been stewing nicely ever since, but that's irrelevant. What I feel doesn't matter. Father's decided that we are to remain with the Order."

Draco's eyes widened, and he jumped up from his chair just a bit. "You're betraying the Dark Lord," he hissed. "You _are_ insane!"

Harry shrugged. "You've been telling me that for years," he said with a dismissive wave.

Draco frowned. "You don't seem to be taking this very seriously."

Harry chuckled humorlessly. "Do you foresee the Dark Lord attacking Hogwarts anytime soon," he challenged. "He has never dared an attack on the school while Dumbledore resides there, and he won't until he has full control of England. If it is to fall, Hogwarts will be the last pillar."

"And you aren't worried about that," Draco asked.

"Oh, exceedingly so," Harry answered. "My father and sister are hidden there, and so is—" He stopped suddenly.

It took Draco only a short moment to realize what his cousin had almost slipped. "Granger."

Harry's eyes flashed. "Don't say anything," he warned.

"Sirius hasn't killed her yet," Draco asked.

"Actually, I think she's closer to killing him than he is her," Harry answered. Draco frowned at Harry's fond expression. He had hated Granger. He still hated her. She was insufferable, bossy, and an eternal suck up. She was a twisted little Mudblood who had managed to drag Harry down into the pit with her.

"Draco," Harry said a moment later, "I didn't come here just to tell you all of that."

"Of course," Draco said.

"And you know you can't ever let anyone, not even your parents, know that you know the truth," Harry continued.

Draco gave a longsuffering sigh. "If I must," he promised.

The corner of Harry's lips twitched, almost a smile. "I came also to bring you back to Hogwarts."

"What," Draco cried.

Harry continued as thought he hadn't spoken. "Of course, the blood traitors don't know I'm here. Really, Father and Hermione don't know either. Of course, when I get back, they'll probably kill me for sneaking out. Draco, we both know what my Father is capable of, as well as the Potters and Dumbledore. They have every chance of winning this war, especially with all of Father's knowledge of the Dark Lord's strategies."

"The Dark Lord has changed things," Draco argued. "And you know the orders he had out to get Sirius back from the Order." Harry did not look concerned. "If they had the power to destroy the Dark Lord, wouldn't they have done it already?"

Harry frowned. It was a very long moment before he spoke. "They lacked the proper weapon before now," he said slowly. "But it is in their hands again to be used as necessary." He did not look pleased.

"What weapon," Draco asked, but Harry only shook his head.

"Are you going to come with me to Hogwarts or not," Harry asked, quickly changing the subject.

Draco frowned. "You're as reckless as Sirius," he muttered. "I can't just up and leave. Look what happened when you did that. Adrienne was murdered. I know you didn't like her, but I happen to love my mother and have no wish to see her and my father fed to the dragons!"

"So you won't come," Harry concluded.

"It's a stupid plan," Draco said.

Harry stood and gathered up his cloak. Hiding his face from view, he stepped over to the door, removing the charms that held the locks and silence barriers in place. Before disappearing into the dark hall, he said, "Think about it." And Draco cursed after him because he knew that he would.


	36. Weddings and Writings

**Chapter 36**

Things were hectic at the Burrow, to say the least. In just two days, Bill and Fleur's wedding would be taking place, and there was still so much to do. There were tents to put up, tables to set, dishes to wash, food to cook, and rooms to clean. Dresses and robes needed pressing, and flowers needed arranging.

Weasleys of all ages were appearing, some of them so distantly related that Arthur and Molly's lot wondered why they were even present at all. Fleur's parents and sister were staying at the Burrow, her other relatives booking rooms at various inns. Hermione and Neville, although not staying at the Burrow as they had over plenty of summers while still in school, were constantly in and out, running last minute errands to help ease the burden off Molly. Hermione helped Ginny to arrange bouquets and centerpieces. They did laundry and mopped floors.

Ron and Neville, along with the twins, had been condemned to arranging chairs and tablecloths after they had tried to start a food fight with a bowl of mashed potatoes. Hermione was so busy helping with the wedding that she didn't have time to run over to Hogwarts to see Harry and Sirius. And, although they knew she was a member of the Inner Circle, that was probably a good thing. Ron, Neville, and Ginny would have pestered her for answers.

She didn't stop by until the morning before the wedding, already dressed in her robes and hair done up. "Where are you going," Harry asked.

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Bill's wedding," she said. "I've told you about ten times now." Harry gave her a look that plainly said he found the whole event inconsequential. "Come on," Hermione said. "The Weasleys are good people. Your father will vouch for them."

Sirius merely grunted from his chair, his eyes glued to the papers before him. A few moments later, Lily and James Potter appeared; they too were dressed for the wedding. "Ready to head out, Hermione," James asked. Hermione nodded, straightening her robes as she stood.

James walked over to Sirius. "You ready?" Harry turned his head sharply to stare at them. Surely Sirius Black was not going to a Weasley wedding?

"I've been ready for ages, Potter," Sirius said, his wand appearing in his hand faster than most could follow.

"Well, there's no guarantee," James said. "You know how useless rumors can be."

"But it is the perfect opportunity to strike, when the Order and Aurors are so scattered," Sirius noted. "If it is not his plan, I can guarantee at least that he considered it."

Finally, Harry had to ask, "Considered what, Father?"

Sirius spared him a quick glance before returning his attentions to the papers he had been reading. "The guest list for this wedding includes a significant number of Order members and Aurors. Guard posts that would normally be carefully walked will be empty. It would be the perfect time for the Dark Lord to strike."

"To strike a wedding," Atria asked, her nose upturned a bit.

"The Ministry," Sirius corrected.

"And you will be going to this wedding, Father," Atria asked.

"Not the wedding," Sirius answered, his eyes sparkling just a bit.

Ever since he had been restored his proper memories, Sirius had been under the strictest of orders to remain in Hogwarts, leaving his rooms only for meetings. He had been going completely stir crazy. Even as a Death Eater, Sirius had been unable to remain on the sidelines. He had fought right alongside his troops, ready to die (but never really expecting to) with them. But sitting inside the old castle while his friends and others fought for their lives had nearly driven him insane.

After Kreacher had come to Hogwarts with news of Regulus's death, Sirius had been livid. He'd even gone as far to tell Dumbledore, a man he greatly revered, that he would have liked to kill him. And he had certainly not been lying. Over the months and with constant hard work, Sirius's intense desire to destroy the Potters, Dumbledore and the rest of the Order had dwindled into a nearly nonexistent tingle in the back of his mind. But knowledge that Regulus had come to Dumbledore and the old man had turned him away had brought back that intense hate for the respected headmaster. Looking back, Sirius was very surprised that he had not at least thrown one Unforgiveable at him.

But after what had happened, Sirius refused to hide any more. He would never again sit back and let others run out to fight. The Dark Lord and his family were all perfectly aware that he was back on the Order's side, as were most of the Death Eaters. Snape had given them no delusions. Only the Inner Circle of the Order was aware of his change, and Sirius knew that some of them still remained wary of him. But he didn't care what they thought. He didn't care what the rest of the wizarding world would think when he reappeared in battle. They weren't important. What was important was his son and his daughter, Lily and James, Peter and Remus. He'd even fight for Hermione if he had to. After all, Harry wasn't going to let her go now.

The Potters and Hermione took a Port Key directly from Hogwarts to the Burrow. It was decorated beautifully. "You kids sure did a number on this place," James said approvingly before wandering off to find friends. Hermione waved to Lily and weaved through the crowd to find Ron, Neville and Luna.

Ron and most of his brothers were in charge of helping greet guests and directing them to their proper seats. Hermione, Neville, and Luna hung back when he was attending to his duties.

When the wedding finally started, Hermione was lost in a sea of girlish bliss. It was beautiful. Fleur was absolutely glowing. Gabrielle beamed at her sister, and Ginny smiled. She had managed to warm up to Fleur since Bill's injuries. For his part, once Fleur reached Bill at the altar, his scars weren't even noticeable. Mrs. Weasley and Madame Delacour were sobbing loud tears of happiness in the front row.

After the vows and with the flick of a few wands, the makeshift chapel was magicked into a fabulous reception tent. Flutes of champagne floated over to each person, and toasts were made. The cake was cut, and Bill and Fleur had their first dance together. Others then joined them out on the floor.

Hermione danced for some time before growing tired. She and Luna went over to a table to rest their feet. It wasn't long before Ron came over and stole Luna away again. "Might I sit here," a deep voice asked.

Hermione looked up and nearly squealed. "Viktor!" She jumped up to give him a tight hug. Viktor Krum, the star Seeker for the Bulgarian Quidditch team, lifted her off the ground as he returned her salutations. "Viktor, I didn't know you would be coming."

"Yes," he said, "Fleur invited me. I had not seen her since the Tournament, but we had written letters to each other." Hermione was impressed. His English had greatly improved since she last saw him.

In her fourth year at school, Dumbledore had announced the reinstatement of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. It had been a very exciting year. Students from both Drumstrang and Beaubatons had come to live at Hogwarts for the year. The three chosen champions were Viktor, Fleur, and Cedric Diggory. Viktor, much to both Ron's and Harry's disapproval, had taken a liking to Hermione and had been her partner for the Yule Ball. Hermione had also been the person Viktor had retrieved from the Lake. Harry had certainly not liked that.

Of course, the Tournament had ended with the tragic death of Cedric Diggory. The final task had been sabotaged by Death Eaters, and Cedric, the first to touch the cup, had been killed.

Hermione had remained in loose contact with Viktor since, writing him letters every so often. "How have you been, Her-mo-ninny," he asked. Hermione sighed. His English was better, but he still couldn't pronounce her name properly. "You have been affected by this war, yes?"

"We all have," Hermione said. "The Death Eaters attack both Wizarding and Muggle settlements."

Viktor nodded. "The old high master, Karkaroff, you remember him, yes? He was a Death Eater."

Hermione gasped. "No," she said. "It—it wasn't him who set the trap, was it?"

Viktor shrugged. "I cannot be certain. He apparently tried to leave, and this Dark Lord disposed of him."

Hermione shuddered. She had heard this same thing plenty of times, but it never sat well. Hastily, she said, "This is a wedding. Let's not talk about such things. Tell me how you've been. How's Quidditch?"

Viktor went into a very long spiel about his past season. Hermione was thankful that Harry and Ron both were fanatics, which often forced her to endure talk of the popular sport. Otherwise, she wouldn't have understood a word Viktor was saying (a notion that was endlessly frustrating to her).

"And you, Her-mo-ninny," Viktor asked some moments later. "What occupies your time?"

"Unfortunately, the war," Hermione said.

"And there is nothing else," Viktor asked. "There is no man in your life to distract you?"

Hermione chuckled. "Well," she began, looking around to make sure there were no Weasleys within hearing range, "I must swear you to secrecy on this, Viktor." He nodded. Who was he going to tell? "I do have someone, but it's a very complicated relationship."

"Complicated how," Viktor asked.

"Well, I can't really tell any of my friends about him, not yet anyway," Hermione said.

"This is because why?"

"A part of it has to do with my work in the Order of the Phoenix," Hermione explained. "Everything about him is supposed to be a secret, and I know that Ron and Neville, oh, all the Weasley children, let's be honest, are going to go absolutely furious when they find out."

Viktor frowned as he contemplated her words. "This man is perhaps too old for you," he guessed. Hermione shook her head. Viktor's frown deepened. He lowered his voice and said, "He is one of _them_."

Hermione laughed aloud. "A Death Eater, you mean," she asked, her heart racing. Viktor had hit the nail right on the head, but he couldn't know that. Hermione had become a very good actress over the years regarding her relationship with Harry. She had always fooled the others, and Viktor would be no exception. "Come now, Viktor," she said around her laughter, holding her hand to her mouth as though to stifle the uncontrollable reaction. "The very idea!"

And Viktor too grinned. "I thought not," he said. "I could not imagine you of all people."

The rest of the day went by without a single hitch. The expected attack by Death Eaters did not occur, despite the wide opening. Lily had said something along the lines of Voldemort knowing they were all waiting for him to make a move. Doing so might have been more risky than an attack during a usual day. Hermione knew Sirius was probably seething about his former master's lack of action. The man wanted to get out, to do more than sit around arguing with Snape during Inner Circle meetings.

* * *

Sirius Black sat at his desk in his Hogwarts rooms. The Dark Lord had not staged an attack the day of the Weasley wedding, leaving him as bored as ever. After the reception, James, Lily, Remus and Tonks had brought Hermione back to the suite, and Tonks announced that she was pregnant. Sirius and James had made the appropriate jokes regarding Remus being a sick pedophile, Lily and Hermione shushing them loudly so that they could properly squeal over Tonks. Harry and Atria, of course, had not been swayed by the happy news of their kinswoman's condition.

The Potters and Lupins had long since returned to their own homes, and the children had retired to their rooms. Sirius, however, had too much to do to consider something as trivial as sleep. He had battle plans to look over, spells to research, finances to monitor. Harry had done well months ago to grab nearly all of Sirius's papers and books from his office in Grimmauld Place. His old office had been filled to the brim with notes and papers of great value to the Dark Lord. There had been endless volumes of books regarding ancient, complicated forms of magic.

Sirius pushed aside the battle plans and picked up a tattered old book. It was a simple journal, covered by thick, worn leather. All the pages were blank. Sirius had been given this book by the Dark Lord about a year after his so-called recovery from behind enemy lines with the strictest of instructions to keep the journal safe. It was made very clear that the journal was worth much more than the lives of Sirius and his entire family. Sirius hadn't understood its purpose, but he had hidden it in the safe in his office. He'd completely forgotten about it until he'd begun to shift through the bottomless folder Harry had handed him.

Since then, Sirius had begun to ponder the journal more and more. What was its purpose? Why was the Dark Lord so concerned with its safety? It had to be important. There was some sort of colossal secret hidden within the journal that Sirius needed to know. The Dark Lord did not guard things that were unimportant. Something about this journal was crucial to understanding the Dark Lord, a task Dumbledore had emphasized to Sirius and James as vital.

Sirius spent hours staring at the journal, flipping through the blank pages. He tried spell after spell. He thought back to the more carefree days when he and the others had created the Marauders' Map. That had been done with complex magic, far above the skills students their age should have been capable of. There was every chance that some of the spells they used to hide the secrets of their Map had been used by the Dark Lord on this journal. Nothing worked. No passwords that Sirius could think of revealed anything.

Sirius muttered a colorful curse and dipped his quill into the inkbottle. He'd been keeping a list of all the spells he'd tried. He moved the quill over to his spare parchment, a glob falling off and spilling on the open journal. Sirius cursed again, but then stared wide eyed as the ink absorbed itself into the pages. Hardly a second later the page was as fresh and blank as it had always been. Sirius quickly jotted down the previously used spell and turned his full attention back to the journal.

He frowned, his hand hovering over the page. He made a quick scratch of the quill over the page. Just as before, the ink was absorbed. Sirius drew a circle, a star, a broom and a Snitch. Each time the result was the same. Sirius held his fist up to his chin. What was the point of this ink absorption? Was the journal simply charmed to always remain freshly blank?

Sirius made a small drawing of a snake as he thought. When he drew back his quill for a quick moment, the ink disappeared. Sirius leaned back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the floor. He dropped down with a loud thud when ink reappeared on the page, forming scratchy words.

"_Are you just going to doodle all day? You're not a very good artist, I'm afraid."_

Sirius stared with a slack jaw. There was a personality magicked into the journal, just like with the Map. He picked up his quill again and quickly wrote, _"Who are you?"_

The journal answered, _"Considering you're writing in my journal, I should be asking you the same thing."_

"_My name is Sirius Black,"_ he wrote.

"_I know of a Black family. They are very old, very Slytherin. Are you one of them?"_

Sirius frowned, untrusting of this journal, but responded in a timely manner, _"I am the eldest son."_ This journal was old, older than Sirius.

"_I don't know of a Sirius in that family, but I suppose it's been a while by now. My name is Tom Riddle."_ Sirius's grip tightened over his quill. He had expected this personality to be that of Voldemort, but he was surprised to see the Muggle name that the Dark Lord had hated so much. This journal had been magicked before the Dark Lord had completely thrown off his last connection to his Muggle heritage.

Sirius decided to play innocent. _"Forgive me. I don't know of you."_

If the journal could have, Sirius was sure it would have shrugged. _"I don't suppose so. I've been planning to change my name for a while now. I was named for my father, and let's just say we've never gotten along well."_

"_I can understand that,"_ Sirius responded.

"_Do you mind if I asked you that the state of the world is like,"_ the journal asked. _"Curiosity, you know. I wouldn't be able to change anything, but it would be nice to know. I've been pretty bored in here for, well, it has to have been years."_

Sirius indulged him to a point. He spoke of the war, describing the Dark Lord in a manner that would have made Bellatrix gush. The journal ate it up and was very interested to learn more of the Dark Lord's victories and ideals. Sirius realized that Riddle, at whatever age, had already begun to plot his future. He had already created the persona of the Dark Lord Voldemort. He was ready to create his band of Death Eaters and impose his will and power on the Wizarding world.

"_These Death Eaters are Slytherins, then,"_ the journal asked almost innocently.

"_Mostly,"_ Sirius wrote.

"_If you don't mind me asking, where does your family's allegiances lie?"_

Sirius answered honestly. _"We are Death Eaters."_ He could almost feel Riddle grinning.

"_I'd like to show you something, Sirius." _And before Sirius could even think to protest, he felt himself being drawn into the journal.


	37. The Ring In The Shack

**Chapter 37**

The night was unusually still. Not so much as a cloud drifted across the sky. The stars twinkled, and the moon was high in its arch. Silver light cast a soft glow across the land, filtering through the small crack in the simple curtains that hung on the windows in Remus Lupin's bedroom. Remus lay in his bed, flat on his back and eyes glued to the ceiling. He couldn't seem to get to sleep. It was becoming the story of his life. It wasn't the moon cycles. There were still a couple of weeks until the full moon. It wasn't so much the war. That had been raging for too many years to keep him up at night.

Remus glanced to his side. Curled up beside him was Nymphadora Tonks. His wife and the mother of his child. The war and the moon couldn't keep him awake, but she could easily.

Tonks was pregnant, nearing her fourth month now. James and Mad-Eye, at the first knowledge of her condition, had taken her out of the field. Tonks had thrown a fit. She was a fighter, and she couldn't stand sitting on the sidelines filing paperwork while the ones she loved were risking their lives. James had commented more than once that her behavior was mirroring Sirius's, to which both Blacks had responded that their behavior was justified.

For his part, Remus couldn't have been more thankful for James and Mad-Eye's determination and resolve to keep Tonks (and any other pregnant Aurors, really) out of the field. Tonks knew that she was doing everything for two now, but Remus wondered if it had truly sunken in yet. Remus was constantly beside himself with worry, but she had been fairly calm through this whole thing. Remus supposed that it could have been due to Tonks's more positive outlook on life.

Remus had never expected too much from life. His condition hadn't allowed for it. He had never expected to get into Hogwarts, but then Dumbledore had come to his house personally. Remus had expected it was be too good to be true. He could go to school, but he could never make friends. They would get close, they would notice that he was disappearing once a month, and they would figure out his secret. Once that happened, they would tell the rest of the school, and Remus would be hated. He'd tried to not get to close to anyone, but James (and Sirius once they stopped hating each other based on their families' old prejudices) hadn't allowed it.

But Remus's friends had surprised him. They had found out his secret, but they never told another soul. They stuck by his side, and they broke laws to help make his monthly torture more bearable. Sometimes, Remus had found himself almost looking forward to the full moon. Looking back, of course, he realized how stupid they had been.

After graduation, once Remus entered the real world, he realized just how much the rest of the wizarding world hated people like him. They didn't understand him or what he went through. All they knew was what he could become once a month. As if he hadn't done enough, Dumbledore had pulled strings among the Order to help Remus get a job.

Even less than he had ever expected friends, a job, or acceptance, Remus had never once expected to fall in love and be loved in return. Then he'd met Tonks. He'd hated himself for some time. He'd known Tonks (albeit, he'd only met her once or twice before) as a child. But he found himself very attracted to her. She had gown into a beautiful woman. She was loud, she was boisterous, and she was colorful. Her appearance was everything Remus wasn't. They were opposite sides of the spectrum. Remus had thought himself stupid and delusional. He told himself over and over again that he was just stressed by the war.

But it couldn't have been just that. He'd been on duty alone with her before, and the time had flown by. It was surreal, and the war had been a thing of the past. Tonks had made it all disappear. But when Remus realized that she was returning feelings for him, he'd panicked. He tried to push her way, not wanting to drag her down with him, but Lily and James had hexed him into the next week when they figured out his plan. James had been set to leave Remus alone to do the right thing after that, but Lily had meddled and meddled. After Remus had agreed to give Tonks a legitimate shot, there was no hope. He was completely smitten with her. But he was also terrified of the very idea of a relationship.

Tonks wouldn't hear a word of his worrying. Things would happen when they happened and for a reason, she'd say, and it would be a cold day in hell if she left him over a little thing like his "furry little problem."

Tonks quiet suddenly flipped over onto her other side, where she remained for hardly a second before turning to face Remus again. She made an odd little snorting sound, and Remus noticed her feet tapping to a silent tune. Her nose twitched, and her hair, which she had been wearing a bit longer than usual as of late, brightened to a shocking electric blue. "Yes, yes, I'm a natural blue," she muttered, curling up into a ball and squeezing her pillow in a tight hug.

Remus chuckled silently. Tonks was a bit of a sleep talker. Sometimes, like just then, she would merely utter a strange little quirk. One night, however, Remus had lay in bed and listened to her tell an entire story. She had denied it fiercely, even after Remus showed her a memory. Of course, Remus was no normal sleeper either. As the full moon drew closer, Remus would begin to display odder patterns of sleep. By the night before, Remus slept curled up like a wolf.

With Tonks settled into her sleep again, Remus's mind set to wandering and worrying. Tonks thought he did that far too much. The war and his condition had turned his hair prematurely grey. That, she said, she could live with, but if he didn't stop worrying over her, it would all fall out. And that would be unacceptable.

But Remus couldn't help it. He was going to worry. He was going to fret no matter how much Tonks assured him she was fine. Everyday when Remus walked up the path to his house from the Apparation point, he sweated and his heart raced until he saw the clear sky above his roof.

The war and the Death Eaters weren't Remus's only concerns about Tonks and the baby. By sheer association with him, Tonks had begun to be looked down upon by others in the wizarding community. God bless her, she had never given in and always stood strong by his side. But she was being treated differently. Remus knew that if it weren't for the fact that James, Mad-Eye, and Kingsley were her direct superiors, she could have even been fired from her job.

When Tonks had announced her pregnancy to him, Remus had nearly fainted. No one really knew what happened with children who came from werewolf parentage. It wasn't something that was documented because it just didn't happen. Werewolves never really got the chance to mate outside of their own circles. Not many people were as tolerant and understanding as Tonks was. The baby might be perfectly normal. It also could be a wolf. And Remus didn't know if he could deal with that.

* * *

The house could not properly be called a house. It had been abandoned for many, many years. Even before its abandonment, it had been in poor condition. It really couldn't be considered more than a shack. The wood was rotted, the windowpanes shattered, and everything was coated in a thick layer of dust. The carcass of a withered snake was hammered into the front door. Wearing a fine set of purple velvet robes, Albus Dumbledore looked very out of place.

He had come to this old shack alone, not that he was in any way bothered by that. During these troubled times, he would advise any others against such behavior. It was always best to have some one to watch out for you, to serve as a guard or lookout. But Albus Dumbledore was a highly skilled wizard, one who was very, very rarely caught off guard. He was an exceptional dueler, even at his age (which was quite an age, if you asked him). After all, he was the only that Lord Voldemort was said to fear.

Dumbledore entered the old shack. His presence there was the first in many, many years. His movement stirred the thick dust, slightly irritating his sinuses. He began to comb through the shack, rearranging the rotting furniture, lifting rusted pots, and even lifting floorboards. He didn't know exactly what he would find here, but he knew that there was something.

For many years now, Dumbledore had been investigating into the life of Lord Voldemort. Only recently had he begun to share his findings with James Potter and Sirius Black, two of his most trusted Order members. They were very devoted fighters, and they had high stakes in finally disposing of the Dark Lord. Harry, born Potter but raised Black, was the one who would kill Voldemort, if he was to be killed at all. Dumbledore could not, in good conscious, continue investigation into his former student without including the boy's fathers.

Sirius was highly helpful in Dumbledore's understanding of the workings of the Horcruxes. There was very little written about them, and Sirius's vast knowledge of the Dark Arts had shed light on the problem. Dumbledore was more certain than ever that Voldemort had been creating not one but many Horcruxes. It was alarming.

Dumbledore liked no part of Harry's supposed destiny to fight the Dark Lord. He was still a boy. Yes, he was of age, and yes, he had already fought in battles and grown up with knowledge of what war was like. But he was too young. And there was the problem of his loyalties.

Dumbledore did not ask for loyalty in the way that Voldemort did. Voldemort demanded loyalty to himself. He wanted personal loyalty. Dumbledore did not ask for that, but he would accept it when given. All Dumbledore asked for was loyalty to a cause, to goodness and light. He wanted only to disrupt the chaos and terror that Voldemort brought. He knew that he had loyalty from his Order. He had personal loyalty from Severus Snape and the Potters. He had loyalty to a cause from Sirius Black. Harry, however, had shown no concern about the cause of the Order and the Aurors. Harry was endlessly loyal to his father, and more recently to Hermione Granger. But he had been raised to give personal loyalty to Voldemort. And Dumbledore didn't know if Harry would be able to go against that.

Dumbledore's search did not prove wasted. In the corner of a back room, under a floorboard, he discovered a small golden ring. He knew this was it. It would be the only artifact in the house. He placed it into the folds of his robes before making his way back through the house, using his wand to cover his tracks in the dust. It would not do for the Dark Lord to realize so easily that someone had been here. He Apparated back to Hogsmeade and quickly made his way back to the school.

It was not until he was seated behind his desk, door sealed, that Dumbledore reached into his pocket and removed the ring. He placed it in the center of his desk and stared at it. The symbol in the stone was one very familiar to him. It was the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. He had been obsessed with them in his youth, along with his friend Gilbert Grindelwald. He had not expected this. He had thought only that this ring was a family heirloom, something Voldemort would see as connecting him physically to Slytherin's family. But the question was did he know what this ring really was? Did he know what he had held in his hands?

Dumbledore knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was the Resurrection Stone, one of the three Deathly Hallows. And with his discovery of this ring, he now knew the location of each Hallow. The Elder Wand was in his personal possession and had been for many years, since he had defeated Grindelwald. James Potter owned the Invisibility Cloak. It had been in his family for generations, but James did not know the significance of his Cloak. And now here was the Resurrection Stone.

This stone possessed great power. With it, the user could see and communicate with the dead. It was such an amazing prospect, to talk one last time with those long departed. And Dumbledore had outlived many people.

As a young man, Albus Dumbledore had showed perhaps the most astounding potential that Hogwarts had ever seen. He had been awarded every prize the school had to offer. He had been the acting Man of the Family for some years, since his father had been sentenced to life in Azkaban. But his mother had always been there to care for his brother and sister. But just after his graduation from Hogwarts, his sister had accidentally killed Kendra Dumbledore. All of his plans had been ruined, and he had been forced to take complete responsibility for his family. It was then that he met Gilbert Grindelwald, a young man as genius as he. They had become fast friends, and they had made plans for the world.

But again, everything changed. Gilbert wanted to go too far. They had fought, and the results of the battle had been Ariana's death. To this day, Dumbledore still did not know if it had been his own spell that had killed his little sister. And he had been living with that guilt for so many years.

And now, he finally held in his hands a way to ease his guilt. He could so easily use the Stone, just once, to summon his family. He could apologize to his mother for his failure in taking care of her family. He could confront his father about his actions. He could beg Ariana's forgiveness. The temptation was great, more overwhelming than anything he had felt in a very long time.

His long fingers closed over the ring. Just once he would use it. Then he would get rid of it. It was so simple. He slipped the ring onto his finger.

The pain was something he had not known before. His very soul felt as though it were on fire. Everything burned. He screamed, startling Fawkes, but he did not notice anything else. There was only a small part of his mind still functioning rationally. It demanded that he remove the ring. He did. The pain did not lessen.

He wanted to curse himself, but his mouth could not form the words. How could he have been so foolish as to forget that the ring had been made into a Horcrux? He fumbled through his robes, his hand closing around his wand. His vision was swimming, but he managed to make out this reflection of the light shinning off the ring. He screamed as he shot a spell, brilliant green light filling the room.

Another scream filled the room, one that was not his own, and he knew that the Horocrux was gone. But the pain was still there, ripping through every part of him. Fawkes was flying around him, distressed and unable to find a wound to cure with his tears. "To Severus," he cried. The bird was gone in an explosion of flames.

Severus Snape arrived a few moments later, out of breath and his face white at the sight before him. He ran over, and Dumbledore held up a hand, now withered and black. Snape was perplexed, but he worked quickly, using all manner of spells until finally the pain began to wash away, leaving in its place a dull throbbing reminder. Snape helped the headmaster to sit up and asked, "What in the hell happened to you?"

Dumbledore drew in a deep breath. "A very foolish decision," he said, reaching over and picking up the ring. He signed. Again, he had proven himself unworthy of the Hallows. Knowing now that the ring was safe, he slipped it onto one of his blackened fingers. It would serve as a reminder until he decided what to do with it.

"Mind if I pry a bit deeper," Snape asked, a deep frown etched into his features. "That took some very intense spellwork to push back that curse. Do you realize what's happened?"

Far too pleasantly for Snape, Dumbledore asked, "I've signed my death warrant?"

Snape winced. "I'd give you only a couple of years at the most," he said. "I couldn't do any more than that."

"Nor could I have asked you to," Dumbledore said, placing a grateful hand on Snape's shoulder. "But I have led a full and accomplished life. Perhaps it is time."

Snape stood so quickly that one of his knees popped. "What is wrong with you," he hissed, and Dumbledore was a bit surprised. "Are you listening to yourself? You are supposed to be the leader of this side of the war. Everyone is looking up to you, not to the Ministry. They're fools, corrupt ones at that. What do you think is going to happen to this war when you die?"

"I am but one man, Severus," Dumbledore said, "and an unworthy one at that."

"You are the only one that the Dark Lord fears," Snape snapped. "If that is not something, then I don't know what is!"

"But I will not kill him," Dumbledore said. "That job belongs to another."

"To a boy," Snape yelled. "A spoiled, pampered boy! The Black boy is not fit for that job and we all know it. He was raised to serve the Dark Lord, and he is quite frankly, not that clever of a wizard."

Dumbledore pulled himself up and sat behind his desk. "I will not lie to you, Severus," he said. "I too often doubt Harry's capability to defeat Lord Voldemort in battle. But then, I also think that there is more to Harry than any of us have given him credit for. Look at what he's done already?"

Snape arched a brow. "I'd say that his only accomplishment in life thus far was not failing all his subjects in school."

Dumbledore smiled. "I seem to recall him making excellent scores in Potions."

Snape's frown deepened. "And how would it have looked if I had failed the General's son?"

Dumbledore chuckled and said, "What I spoke of was his relationship with Hermione Granger."

"I fail to see what getting a girlfriend has to do with killing the most powerful Dark wizard of the century," Snape said bluntly.

"Love, Severus," Dumbledore said. "He loves her." He chuckled again. "No one ever wants to believe me when I say that love is the most powerful magic of all. Love is what we need to win this war, Severus. Remember that."


	38. Turning Tides

**Chapter 38**

When Sirius Black had emerged in battle at Diagon Alley, hell had broken loose. Aurors had attempted to fling spells at him. Death Eaters had turned their wands toward him. If it had been chaos before his appearance, then witnesses weren't sure what words could be used to describe the scene after. James Potter, as head of the Aurors, had managed to force his men to return their fire to the Death Eaters. After nearly twenty years fighting along side them, Sirius had been able to anticipate the spell patterns sent from his former comrades. He had escaped the battle only to walk head first into public scrutiny.

He hadn't cared. Sirius welcomed the accusations and hate. The opinions of the general public meant nothing to him. He concerned himself only with his family and friends. It had taken intense arguing and debate to convince the Minister and the courts to not immediately throw Sirius into jail. Sirius had scoffed at the idea. He would have found a way out.

Dumbledore was a very influential man. He, along with James Potter and Alastor Moody, had fought diligently for Sirius's case. It had taken weeks of intense deliberation before the courts had agreed to accept the plea of innocence due to the memory wipe and subsequent brainwashing.

Perhaps in some other time or life Sirius would have liked to return to the Aurors. But he had been his own man for too long. He'd been second in command of the Dark Lord's armies, answering only to Lord Voldemort himself, for two decades. He had done the Dark Lord's orders as he had seen fit. He had formulated the plans. Although James was his friend and Sirius respected him, he just couldn't enter into a program where there were too many above him in the chain of command. In the Order, Sirius stood in equal standing with James. Only Dumbledore had authority over him, and Sirius barely listened to the old man anyway. He just wasn't capable of following orders as he might have once been.

Most of the wizarding population was calling for his head on a platter. Those with the authority to bring about such an end had been forced to grudgingly accept Dumbledore's terms. The head figures in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, namely James and Mad-Eye, had shown how the vast amounts of knowledge Sirius could bring to their side were highly valuable. Of course, that did nothing to ease the minds of the families that had been ripped apart by the General.

* * *

"So, he thinks that he can turn against me," Voldemort said lowly, his eyes skimming the headlines of a recent _Daily Prophet_. Ever since his appearance in battle some weeks ago, Sirius Black had taken over the headlines, topping even the Dark Lord. Well, Voldemort supposed, it was a delightful scandal, at least from the eyes of those insufferable reporters. The Skeeter woman had probably gone into cardiac arrest when she heard the news.

Whatever the other wizards of Britain thought was inconsequential. To Lord Voldemort, Sirius Black was a traitor, never mind that he had not joined the Dark Lord's army under his own free will. And Lord Voldemort had no patience for traitors.

"Lucius."

"My lord," the man came forward, bowing deeply.

Voldemort threw down the paper at Lucius's feet. "I want him dead," he said evenly. "Sooner rather than later."

He could see Lucius tense, but the blond man said, "As you wish, my lord."

"Do not fail me."

Lucius Malfoy retreated from the Dark Lord's private chambers, bowing as was appropriate. As soon as the door shut behind him, he began to chew worriedly on his bottom lip. It was a highly unbecoming mannerism, one that he would have normally never indulged in. But this was a most disturbing mission. He was to kill Sirius Black. Twenty years ago, Lucius would have done so without so much as a flinch, but it was different now. Sirius had been on Lucius's side of the war for twenty years. Sirius was family. They had become friends. Obviously, Lucius had not shared all of his personal secrets with Sirius, otherwise Sirius would have known the exact occurrences that had led him to hold the title of General. But they had trusted each other. They had been comrades.

Narcissa would not like this news, Lucius knew that in an instant. She had not even liked the methods used to bring Sirius into the Dark Lord's army, despite her pleasure at her family reuniting (Andromeda's offense had been too great to bring her back, and thus she was never mentioned). And with Harry in hiding with Sirius, Draco too would be displeased.

Lucius loathed his new assignment, but he knew the consequences of failure. If he was not killed himself, then it would be his wife and son. Lucius well remembered the fate that had befallen Adrienne simply because she could not present the Dark Lord a possible location as to her missing children. Lucius would not allow such a thing to happen to Narcissa and Draco. He loved his family, and it was for their sake alone that he had not abandoned the Dark Lord years ago. Abandonment was death.

This would take careful planning. Sirius was a very formidable foe. And he knew Lucius's fighting style. Lucius could hold his own against Sirius, that much he knew. But Sirius now remembered his life before his brainwashing and retraining by Bellatrix. He had fought differently back then. Lucius did not remember it, but Sirius would easily be able to call upon his old skills. He would have to be on very careful guard. James Potter had taken to shadowing Sirius ever since he had returned to battle. Lucius would have to contend with the blood traitor as well.

When Lucius appeared in the expensively decorated parlor of his old family home, Narcissa was seated on one of the couches, a cup of tea before her and a fine needlepoint project scattered about. She looked up at him and instantly knew that something was terribly wrong. She frowned, and Lucius knew that she was fighting the impulse to tug at the ends of her hair. It was a nervous habit that a lady of her esteemed upbringing should not have, after all.

Lucius did not beat around the bush with his wife. "He wants Sirius dead," he said.

Narcissa stood sharply, her knees hitting the table and shaking the fine china. The tea did not spill. "No," she demanded.

"Narcissa," Lucius began, trying to convey to her his sincere apology.

"No," she snapped. "We can't let this happen. He is our cousin."

"I know that," Lucius said, running a hand over the top of his head. "Believe me, I hold little more enthusiasm for the situation than you. But what can we do?"

Narcissa began to pace up and down the parlor, her brow drawn down and a frown of deep thought constricting her lips. Lucius shook his head. "That was a rhetorical question, love. There is nothing that can be done. We—we have to do this."

Narcissa ignored him, her pacing becoming more intense.

"You know as well as I that there is nothing that we can say or do to sway the Dark Lord's decision. He sees Sirius as a traitor and his stance on traitors has always been made clear." Lucius sighed, his heart feeling very heavy. "I never imagined it would come to this. When we first captured him, I never thought that I would accept him as my cousin, nor did I think he would accept me. He became my friend, but as much as I love him—and the kids—I have to kill him."

Narcissa had stopped in mid-step, and when she lifted her head, her eyes were swimming with tears. Lucius moved quickly across the room to draw her into a tight embrace. She clung to him. Neither could speak any more, for there was nothing to say. They didn't like anything about this situation, but they knew that Sirius would have to be killed. They couldn't stand by and allow him to escape. The Dark Lord would not be so forgiving. Draco's life hung in the balance, and neither Malfoy was as reckless as Sirius had been, even as a Death Eater.

"How will you get to him," Narcissa asked some moments later. "He is heavily guarded."

Lucius chose his words carefully. "It might be more prudent to find him away from battle," he started. But Narcissa immediately caught his meaning.

"I refuse," she said shrilly. "I will not draw him into a trap. I can't, I simply can't!"

"It could be the only way," Lucius said. "He might not suspect ill intentions."

"I can hardly believe that," Narcissa snapped hatefully. "Those blood traitors will have begun to fill his head with poisons again. They will have turned him against us by now." Lucius tactfully did not mention that with his rightful memories, Sirius would have begun to hate them again all on his own. "In battle is the only way, Lucius. I will have no part of this." She slipped from his arms and walked out of the room too quickly to feign her acceptance of her cousin's fate.

Narcissa did not join her husband and son for dinner that night. After sending up a plate of food with a house elf, Lucius turned to Draco. Just as Sirius had always been with Harry and Atria, Lucius did not sugar coat things with his son, especially now considering Draco's age. "The Dark Lord is displeased with the turn of events involving Sirius," he said. Draco only nodded, his jaw tight. "I have been placed in charge of dealing with Sirius as is fit with traitors."

Draco's lips were pressed into a thin line. Again he nodded. "Things are becoming more and more dangerous. The loss of Sirius will greatly affect your mother. She was quite close to him. They have always been as siblings." He noticed that Draco's eyes narrowed just slightly, but he did not ask his son to voice his thoughts. "She would not be able to handle anything happening to you in such close proximity."

"And what would you have me do," Draco asked. "Ignore when the Dark Lord sends me to battle?"

"No," Lucius said immediately. That would have been suicide. "Do your duty. Go into battle, but immediately find a safe place to hide. Shoot spells where you can, but you must not come into harm's way."

Draco's frown became indignant. "Is that not cowardice?"

"Your mother could not stand to lose her only child," Lucius said again, leaving Draco to call it as he felt necessary.

* * *

Things did not go as planned. Lucius had failed to kill Sirius during an ambush in the heart of Muggle London. The Dark Lord was furious. Draco held onto his mother, who was hardly able to stand on her own power for all her sobbing, as he watched the Dark Lord send curse after curse upon his father. Lucius had long since stopped moving. Even his aunt Bellatrix, who was no true fan of his father and usually delighted in such displays, was standing tight lipped at her master's right side.

"Please, leave him alone," Narcissa begged. Draco pushed his mother further behind him, terrified that her cries would remind the Dark Lord of her presence, and that she would be next. Bellatrix frowned sharply at him, silently demanding that he silence her younger sister.

When the Dark Lord finally stilled his wand, Draco felt ill. Blood was seeping from several large gashes on Lucius's face. Dark bruises had already formed, and there were angry burns. Draco couldn't tell if he was breathing. The Dark Lord looked up, and Draco felt all the blood leave his face when the long wand pointed at them. "Narcissa," he said, and he shot his spell.

Draco did not move, expecting his body to shield his mother, but the Dark Lord's aim was true, and he managed to hit Narcissa's exposed arm. She screamed as the fabric of her sleeve gave way to the cursed fire and her arm was burned. The Dark Lord pulled back his spell, opting now for the Cruciatus Curse. Narcissa withered on the floor. Draco knew that he was screaming, but all he could hear was his mother's cries. When the Dark Lord finally released her, Draco gathered his mother into his arms. She was shaking badly. "Stand, Narcissa," the Dark Lord said, his rage still very evident in his voice.

Draco pulled his mother to her feet, keeping a tight hold of her. "Draw your wand, Narcissa," the Dark Lord said, "and turn the Cruciatus Curse on your son."

Narcissa's knees gave out, and Draco almost dropped her. She stammered a few times before finally finding her voice. "My-my lord, please, p-please no," she begged.

"Do as I command!"

"My son, please not my son!" She tried to throw herself on the ground at the Dark Lord's feet, but Draco kept her up.

"Mother, just do it," Draco hissed through his teeth. Narcissa began to thrash.

"Perform the curse, or I will kill him," the Dark Lord said, his voice low, but it carried over Narcissa's cries. Narcissa was sobbing too violently to attempt to draw her wand.

The Dark Lord's face began to contort with anger again, but before he lifted his wand, Bellatrix moved forward. "My lord," she said, her voice steady. She did not speak further until he turned to look at her. "The boy's blood is of the highest quality, both Black and Malfoy. They are families nearly as old and great as your noble Slytherin blood. Is this asset not too great to lose?"

"Have you become so sentimental, Bella," the Dark Lord asked. "Would you not have Lucius truly pay for his failures?"

Bellatrix did not flinch. "Let me punish Draco, my lord. When I am done, no Malfoy will dare disobey you again."

And the Dark Lord smiled, a twisted form of affection in his eyes as he gazed upon his most devoted and loyal servant. "Make them suffer, Bella," he said, taking a step back to give her a clear shot.

"Release your mother," Bellatrix said as she pointed her wand at Draco. He obeyed immediately and steeled himself for the pain that was to come. Nothing about this would be easy. Bellatrix would beat him hard for his father's failure to capture Sirius Black. She would beat him hard so that the Dark Lord would not beat him harder.

It was several hours later that the entire episode was over. The Dark Lord departed from the manor immediately after calling Bellatrix off her nephew. Narcissa had collapsed in a dead faint at some point during the torture, Draco didn't know exactly when. It had been some time before he had been able to pull himself off the ground. A glance told him that his mother was still in as good a health as could be expected. It had taken great effort to drag himself over the floor to his father. Draco had nearly cried with relief to see him still breathing. He crawled over to the fireplace and pulled himself up to reach the jar of Floo powder. He sent in an urgent call to the family healer. The elderly man burst through the fireplace in time to see Draco falling to the floor.

Draco directed him first to his father and mother. The healer conjured stretchers and levitated the Malfoys upstairs, following the portraits' directions to their bedroom. Narcissa came down into the parlor some minutes later. Her injuries were the least serious of the three. She cried as she helped Draco upstairs. The healer did all that he could for Lucius, stating that the effects of his recent punishment would take some time to heal, even with constant magical treatment.

Draco was given a few potions for the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. One stilled his hands and helped to ease the tension in his muscles. Another calmed the sharp pains to dull aches. Sometime after the healer had left, leaving instructions with Draco as to the continued caring of his father, Draco sat in a chair and watched his mother, who was sitting by Lucius on the bed, holding his hand and muttering calming words as tears poured from her eyes. Draco's eyes narrowed and he stood. His mother did not notice him slipping from the room.

The rational part of Draco's brain was screaming at him, calling him a fool and demanded him to either return to his mother's watch over his father or to retire to his own rooms. But Draco was acting solely on his emotions and instincts. And his instincts were demanding that something be done about the treatment of his parents.

Draco slipped into his father's office on the second floor of the manor. He locked the door behind him and muttered several spells to hide his presence in the room, but he was not truly expecting anyone to happen by. There were no portraits in the room to see him. Draco hardly dared to breathe as he walked to the other side of the room, where a large bookcase took up the entire wall. Many of the shelves were filled with books, but some had artifacts and other valuable decorations. Draco's eyes locked onto a small golden cup, upon which the crest of Helga Hufflepuff was emblazoned.

The Dark Lord had brought this cup to the manor many years ago. Draco had still been a child. He remembered listening outside the door with Harry as the Dark Lord told his father of the great importance of the cup. It was a dear treasure to him and must always be kept safe. Several charms and spells had been placed on and around the cup to prevent theft. Draco couldn't remember all of them. He raised his wand and took care of anything obvious that came to mind.

He regarded the cup again. There were more spells protecting it, he knew, but he couldn't be sure what they were until he saw what happened. He steeled himself and reached out a hand to touch it. The metal burned the flesh of his fingers. Draco hissed and cursed. He didn't know the counter-curse, so he ripped away at the bottom of his cloak. Using the fabric to protect his hand, he took hold of the cup and was pleased when it did not burn. Triumph flashed in his eyes when he lifted the cup from the shelf. Nothing else altered him to broken wards, so he wrapped the cup tightly in the fabric and slipped it into his pocket. He carefully replicated the cup and stole up to his rooms.

Draco's hands shook as he pulled out a piece of parchment and scribbled a note. He waved his wand, a spell he had learned from his uncle Sirius to keep family business secret from prying eyes, and placed the letter into an envelope. He did not address it, but said to his owl, "Bring it to Harry. He's at Hogwarts. I need an immediate reply. Peck his eyes out if you must." The owl took the letter in his beak and flew out the window.

Draco spent half the night pacing up and down his rooms. The rational part of his brain knew that it would take time for his owl to fly to Hogwarts and back with a reply, but he didn't want to consider that. When the owl finally came back, Draco scrambled over the table and couch of his private sitting room to get to the window. He ripped open the letter and, placing the tip of his wand to the parchment, muttered the password he and Harry had agreed upon at their last meeting.

From where his wand rested, ink began to spill over the page in Harry's handwriting.

_Draco,_

_I'm going to get into endless trouble with Father for sneaking out. _

_Meet me at the place from before at mid-day. _

_Harry_

Draco threw the letter into the fire. He changed from his bloodied and ripped clothes and went to check on his mother. She had fallen asleep and was draped awkwardly over his father's chest. Draco carefully shook her awake and led her to the other side of the bed. He instructed her to get under the covers and get some sleep. She was out in seconds. Draco sent a worried gaze over his father, still unconscious, before leaving the room. He left instructions with the house elves to be ready with food and drink for his parents. Using the parlor fireplace, he accessed the Floo Network and went to Diagon Alley.

* * *

Harry had snuck out of Hogwarts before daybreak. An owl had arrived from Draco in the early hours of the morning. Draco's words had been urgent, and Harry had been easily convinced to leave the castle without his father's permission. His reply to Draco had suggested meeting around noon. There would be more people out and about and thus their presence would be less noticeable. The Muggle bar was something that no respectable pureblood would ever enter, and so Harry felt confident they would not be discovered. Harry had worn his most casual suit out. Hermione had once told him that his usual suits were highly out of style in the Muggle world, which would have drawn attention. He hoped Draco would have come to the same conclusions.

Because he had left so early, Harry had several hours to kill before meeting up with his cousin. He wandered the Muggle streets, attempting with little success to keep a sneer from his face at all the filthy Muggles. Hermione would have been very displeased with him.

About a half hour until noon, Harry turned in his tracks and headed back down the street to the bar. The bar was full of business during the lunch hour. Harry took a seat at a booth and ordered a pint of mead when the waitress came up. He had taken a handful of Muggle money from Hermione's purse before leaving. He couldn't make any sense of the bills, but if all else failed, he could always Confund the woman.

He sipped slowly on the drink while waiting for Draco. His eyes were locked onto the doorway. People walked in and out. Groups of men on break from work. Pairs of women looking to loosen up before returning to whatever meaningless occupation. A woman with several shopping bags. An elderly man with his young grandson. A young man who was a friend of an employee.

One man who walked in was wearing mostly black. A jacket was over his turtleneck sweater, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. There was an odd Muggle hat pulled low over his face, hiding all of his features except for his very light hair. Harry sat up a little straighter. It was Draco, but Harry had never known Draco to own such Muggle looking clothing.

Draco slipped into the booth opposite Harry. Neither said anything until the waitress, who had appeared to take Draco's order, disappeared. "You seemed urgent enough," Harry said. He frowned. Draco hadn't yet removed his hat, and his gaze was down to prevent Harry from seeing his face. "What's wrong?"

The waitress reappeared with a pint. She spared one odd glance at Draco before walking away. Harry made a mental note to make sure to Confund her before leaving, the Muggle money issue now irrelevant. "Draco, look at me," he said lowly. But when his cousin met his eyes, Harry was unprepared for the sight.

One of Draco's eyes was a dark purple, swollen so badly that it was completely closed. His lips had two large, dark scabs from where they had broken and bled. His hair was in disarray under the hat, and his face was drawn, the skin looking simultaneously too tight and too loose. Although he could not see them, Harry was sure his cousin was covered in bruises and other injuries. Draco winced as he reached for his glass. "What happened," Harry asked, his voice unable to rise above a whisper.

"The—the Dark Lord was displeased with our failure to recapture Sirius Black," Draco said. Harry sensed that Draco would have liked to shoot him a humorless smile.

"What did he do?"

"The usual," Draco said, his words suggesting something casual, but his tone alluding to something very dark indeed. "He's more furious with Father than with rest of us. He hit Mother a few times with the Cruciatus Curse, and then gave her the choice to either watch me die or to perform the curse on me." Draco's lips twisted, and the one eye that Harry could see darkened to a shade that was nearly black. "So that went on for a while, and then he left. He'd already dealt with Father."

Harry winced. "Is Lucius—?"

Draco shook his head. "As mad as he is, the Dark Lord can't afford to lose someone as high ranking as Father, not with Sirius gone. But, of course, that doesn't mean he won't beat Father within a literal inch of his life," he added bitterly. Draco looked up at Harry, his eyes hard and focused.

Draco had never been rebellious. He was a fine example of what a Malfoy—and a Black—was supposed to be. Sure, when they had been children he had not been above whining to his parents to get his way, and he and Harry had been scolded far more than fifty times for flying in the hallways and playing juvenile tricks on their relatives, but Draco had never rebelled, certainly not in the ways Harry had. But Harry had never seen his cousin look so defiant before.

Draco reached into his pocket, withdrawing something from inside. Even as he held it out, Harry could not be sure what the object was, for it was wrapped tightly and carefully in a thick, dark cloth. Draco's hard, defiant stare was fixed on Harry. "I don't know what this is exactly, but I do know that the Dark Lord values it greatly." He shrugged the sleeve of his jacket over one of his hands and used it to peel away the cloth, exposing a small, bright golden cup underneath. And upon that cup, Harry could plainly see the crest of Helga Hufflepuff.

"Why does he value it," Harry asked, hardly able to imagine the Dark Lord as a collector of old trinkets.

Draco shrugged, wincing at the action. "He gave it to my father when we were young. Do you remember that? We almost got caught eavesdropping?" After a moment, Harry nodded. After that day, he'd never given the incident a second thought. Draco's face was hard and his jaw tight. "Whatever its real purpose, the Dark Lord greatly values this object. Maybe Sirius knows why that is. He was the general, after all."

Draco wrapped the cup up securely and handed it to Harry. "I'll make sure Father gets it." He frowned. "You could get in a lot of trouble if he finds out about this."

Draco smiled, but it was humorless. "I'm willing to take that chance. I can't sit by and watch him treat my parents like that and all because his plan backfired. Malfoys are not pushovers."

Harry offered him a shaky smile. "Draco, you've got to come back with me this time."

"No," Draco said immediately.

"You have to," Harry insisted. "Look at what happened. He could do it again and you might not survive."

"When you disappeared, he killed Adrienne. I won't let that happen to my parents," Draco said evenly.

"Then go back to the manor and bring them with you," Harry said. "Father will offer them protection."

Draco shook his head. "We can't do that. It would be too conspicuous if we disappear. In the very least, he might kill Aunt Bella as punishment."

Harry arched a brow. "He's never threatened Aunt Bella like that before, not seriously."

Draco snapped, "I'm not going to take chances like you did. You're as reckless as Sirius. I can't do that. There is far too much to lose. You saw his anger when Sirius was captured. When you and Atria disappeared, well, you had to have read about the damages in the _Prophet_." Harry nodded tightly. "If we were then to also betray him, I can't imagine what he'll do. There is too much at risk."

Harry drew in a deep breath, and the cup seemed very heavy in his pocket. After a long moment, he nodded. "Go home, but be careful. I'll ask Father if there can be anything done to offer your family some form of protection. He and your parents were always close."

"You think he'll still feel that way even after knowing what they did to him," Draco asked.

Harry nodded. "You should have seen his anger at the old blood traitor when Uncle Regulus died." They did not remain at the bar much longer. When the waitress came back with their check, Harry discretely Confunded her and left the Muggle money on he table. Harry put a gentle hand on Draco's shoulder before they parted ways.

When Harry slipped back into the Blacks' suite, he was immediately bombarded with screams from Sirius, Atria, and Hermione. "Where in the hell have you been, boy?"

"We've been so worried!"

"You aren't supposed to leave the castle, you foolish child. What if someone had seen you?"

"You could have at least left a note."

"Atria, go to your room," Harry said. His sister protested strongly until Sirius waved her off.

After her door had clicked shut, Sirius asked, "Where did you go?"

Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew the Dark Lord's treasure. He pulled back the thick fabric to reveal to Sirius and Hermione the crest. Hermione stared at it in confusion, but Harry noticed Sirius tense, his eyes almost greedy. "I don't know the purpose, but this belongs to the Dark Lord."

"It has the crest of Hufflepuff on it," Hermione said. "What would he want with that?" They both looked to Sirius for answers as he reached forward and took the cup from Harry. His frown was very deep.

"How did you get this?"

"Draco brought it to me," Harry answered. Sirius demanded an explanation, and Harry gave it. Hermione pressed her hands to her mouth, appalled at the treatment that had been given to the Malfoys. Sirius's frown had, if possible, deepened. "Father, we have to do something to help them."

"And what do you suggest," Sirius asked. "Draco said he would not leave. And I know Lucius well. His decision would be the same. Narcissa goes where her husband and son go."

"They are our family," Harry insisted. "We have to do something. Anything!"

"There is little that can be done, if they are not willing to walk away from the Dark Lord," Sirius said, wrapping the cup securely and placing it in the pockets of his robes.

"Find something," Harry demanded. "If I must, I'll talk to Dumbledore. I'll-I'll join the Order."

Hermione gasped, and Sirius stared down impassively. "Do you realize what you're saying," he asked, his voice low. "If you join, you offer yourself to the services of Dumbledore and this side of the war. You admit your importance as the Chosen One. You accept your duty to defeat the Dark Lord."

Harry's fists clenched, and his eyes darted over to Hermione. Her eyes were tearing up. Harry brought his gaze back to his father. "Too many of the people I love have been threatened by the Dark Lord. If I am the one that must stop it, then so be it. I'll join."

A moment later, Sirius nodded. "Stay here," he commanded, and he left the room quickly. Harry reached over to Hermione and drew her into a tight embrace. She was shaking. They sat on the couch and waited for Sirius to return from his discussion with Albus Dumbledore.


	39. Once Upon A Memory

**Chapter 39**

Sirius Black stared at the diary of Tom Riddle. The battered old book lay almost innocently on his desk. Sirius had long since sent his children and Hermione from the suite. This was the rarest of treats for them, and so they leapt at the opportunity.

Just a few days previous, Harry had snuck out of the castle to meet with his cousin Draco. Draco, in an instinctual desire for revenge against the Dark Lord, had given Harry an object that the Dark Lord held dear. It was a small golden cup that had once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. Sirius could remember the day that the Dark Lord brought it to Malfoy Manor. He had given Lucius the same instructions he had to Sirius regarding the Diary. Keep it safe, above all else. Neither Lucius nor Sirius had known the importance of these objects, and they had not discussed them. It was not something that was to concern them, outside of making sure nothing happened to them.

Sirius had brought the cup immediately to Dumbledore. Some weeks earlier, the old man had begun to include Sirius and James on his research into the Dark Lord's past and his suspicions that the Dark Lord had created Horcruxes. After several trips through the memories that Dumbledore had collected, they could certainly agree. They were not sure how many the Dark Lord had created, but Dumbledore seemed to think that he would split his soul into seven pieces.

The cup, the ring, and the locket. Those were the known Horcruxes. One piece would remain in the Dark Lord's body. Dumbledore believed two of the others to have once been objects of Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw. Sirius had advised them to be wary of the snake Nagini. As a Parseltongue, Sirius knew that the Dark Lord had control over snakes, but Nagini served her purpose all too well. She was too in tune with the Dark Lord. If these things were all true, then they had a rough outline of all the Horcruxes.

But ever since Sirius had discovered the hidden nature of the Diary, he had begun to wonder about it. He'd learned of the memory residing in the Diary by accident. The memory of Tom Riddle had spoken to him from the pages, and, after learning that Sirius's family was involved with his schemes, had brought Sirius into the Diary.

For a moment, Sirius had thought that he was trapped inside it, but quickly discovered that Riddle wanted to show him things from the past. He wanted Sirius to see how he had gathered his first followers while he was still in school. He wanted to show Sirius that he was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin and thus the only one capable of opening the mysterious Chamber of Secrets and controlling the monster within. Sirius could not help but be impressed that the rumors of the Chamber were true. Because the basilisk was only part of Riddle's memory, Sirius had been safe to look at it, even as it killed the girl in the bathroom.

After Riddle had let Sirius out of the Diary, Sirius assured the memory that he was highly impressed with his work. He needed the memory to trust him. Dumbledore had stressed the importance of discovering the secrets of the Dark Lord's past. How better to do so than directly from the source?

He hadn't told anyone about the Diary, despite his growing suspicions about it. With the memory of Riddle locked inside it, it resembled the Marauders' Map, but Sirius knew that it was far less innocent. He sat down wearily in his chair, rubbing his temples to ease the pounding in his head. For weeks now, he had been writing in the Diary almost daily. Steadily he had been growing more and more tired. He was irritable, more so than usual. James and Lily had openly voiced their concerns over his behavior, and even Hermione had felt brave enough to do so once. He brushed off all of their concerns, passing it off as a perpetual bad mood. No one had deluded themselves to think that he was the same man he had been twenty years ago before his turning. His moods were almost never lighthearted anymore. He was stern and somber. Smiles were rare and laughter was almost unheard of. He could count those times since regaining his memories on a single hand.

With a heavy sigh, Sirius picked up his quill and opened the Diary.

"_Greetings, my Lord,"_ he wrote.

"_Sirius, good afternoon,"_ the Diary responded. _"Do you have any news?"_

"_Nothing substantial. There was a werewolf attack last night. I believe four Muggles were bitten."_

"_Excellent,"_ the Diary wrote. Sirius frowned. Even as the General, he had hated the Dark Lord's use of the werewolves. Greyback didn't exactly set a shining example for the race. Sirius could see no glory in placing such a curse on someone, even if they were just lowly Muggles.

"_Things are going well for your cause, my Lord. You have certainly concocted a most masterful of plans."_

"_I am glad you think so. You seem to be a very loyal servant, Sirius."_

"_I live to serve the Dark Lord." _Had there been a face, the Diary would have smiled.

"_I think, then, I will honor your loyalty, Sirius." _ For a brief moment, Sirius expected to be drawn in to the Diary again but was surprised when something began to rise from the pages. It was foggy, more solid than a ghost, and most definitely a body.

It was a young man, very handsome, and dressed in Slytherin robes. His hair was combed perfectly to the side, and his lips were stretched in a charming smile that did not reach his eyes. Sirius pushed back from the desk, and the image of Tom Riddle regarded him from his perch on the wooden surface.

"Hello, Sirius," Riddle said, his voice echoing oddly. He did not move from his spot on the desk.

"My Lord," Sirius said, still quite surprised at the memory's ability to manifest itself in such a manner.

"You seem perplexed," Riddle stated.

"Indeed, my Lord," Sirius said. "How is it that you have come out of the Diary?"

Riddle grinned. "As I am sure you have concluded, this is far more than a Diary, Sirius. When I was sixteen years old, I placed a piece of myself in this Diary. You remember how I showed you my opening of the Chamber of Secrets?" Sirius nodded. "That tottering old fool Dumbledore suspected me, but he had no proof. I couldn't risk opening the Chamber again while I was in school. I decided to lock a piece of myself away, so that my work could be continued through another after I had left the school."

"You wish to open the Chamber through me, my Lord," Sirius asked. "That I should go to Hogwarts and unleash the creature?" The Diary wouldn't know that they were already at Hogwarts, and Sirius couldn't let him know. It was seem odd.

"Perhaps in due time," Riddle answered. "I think I would like to become stronger first."

"How would you build up your strength?"

Riddle seemed amused. "You've already helped me substantially in that aspect, Sirius," he said. "Were it not for you, I could not have come out of the Diary like this. Of course, I'm still bound to it. I'll need more from you."

Sirius suppressed a frown. The Diary was definitely a Horcrux, of this much he was now sure. And through his writing in it, the piece of the Dark Lord's soul had been draining his very energy. He was stealing Sirius's life to give him his own. Sirius had no doubts that Riddle required all of him to become whole.

"You may prove your loyalty to me now, Sirius," Riddle said, his smile becoming wicked. Sirius was sure that he saw a flash of red in the memory's eyes. He remained frozen some feet away. The memory frowned. "Do not anger me, Sirius. Come here."

Sirius did not obey. "You're a Horcrux," he said.

Riddle looked momentarily surprised. He obviously did not expect Sirius to even be aware of such Dark magics. "And what do you know of those?"

"All that is necessary," Sirius answered. "Tell me, my Lord, have you chosen all your seven?" Riddle frowned darkly. "You have attempted to play me for a fool, Tom Riddle," Sirius said. "Rest assured, not even the Dark Lord may do so against a Black."

"I give you one last warning, Sirius," Riddle growled. "You would not be my first victim."

"Nor the last, I'm sure," Sirius drawled. He held up his wand, which Riddle eyed both warily and greedily.

"You cannot harm me," Riddle said. "I am like nothing you have ever faced."

"I do not doubt that you have great skills," Sirius said. "You were making Horcruxes at sixteen. You grow to become the most feared Dark Wizard of all time. I certainly don't doubt you. But I noticed that you don't have a wand."

Riddle's eyes were glowing a steady red now, and Sirius could feel his body growing quite heavy. Something in the back of his mind insisted he lay down his wand. He ignored the impulse. "I know where I can get one," Riddle said.

It was a bit difficult to stand. Sirius frowned when Riddle became more opaque. He took a few steps back, hoping to remove himself from Riddle's range. It did no good. Riddle was grinning widely now. "Do not resist Lord Voldemort," he said, sliding down from the desk and walking across the room towards Sirius.

The pounding in Sirius's head increased twenty-fold. It felt as though his skull was threatening to explode. His held his head in one hand, keeping a firm grip on his wand. Sirius fell to his knees hard. Riddle stood over him, growing more solid by the second. "Give me your wand." The pain was something akin to the Cruciatus Curse. He managed to glance up. Riddle was as solid as Sirius himself. He was reaching for the wand.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _

For a brief moment, the room was filled with Riddle's laughter. Then there was a scream of terrible pain. Sirius threw his hands over his head as Riddle's body was ripped to pieces. A moment later, the room was silent. Wincing, Sirius drew himself to his feet and dragged himself over to his desk. The Diary lay where he left it. It was now a smoldering heap of burned leather and charmed parchment lying in a pool of black ink. Sirius dropped into the chair heavily.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, simply staring at the remains of the Horcrux. When the children came back, he was still there. Hermione and Harry immediately noticed something wrong. "Sirius," Hermione gasped, gripping his shoulder in concern when she saw his face. He was very pale and tense. "Sirius, what happened?"

"Go get Dumbledore now."

Harry was out the door in an instant. Hermione led Sirius over to the couch, instructing him to lie down. He did so, still holding tightly to his wand and the Diary. "You're sweating," Hermione said. "I'll get a cold towel." Sirius didn't bother to stop her. A few moments later, Harry and Dumbledore burst into the room.

"Sirius, what is going on," Dumbledore asked.

Sirius held up the charred remains of the Diary. The headmaster eyed it, slight confusion evident in his expression. "Add this to the list of destroyed Horcruxes," he said.

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Where did you find that?" He took the Diary and gently turned the ink stained pages.

"The Dark Lord entrusted this to me many years ago. Harry brought it over from the manor. The Dark Lord created it when he was sixteen years old, after he had opened the Chamber of Secrets."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I had always suspected him," he said.

"What's going on here," Harry asked, crossing his arm and obviously irritated about being left in the dark. Hermione looked back and forth between the two older men, her eyes narrowed slightly. "What is that thing?"

Sirius gave Dumbledore a pointed glance, and for a moment they seemed to be locked in a silent debate. Finally, Dumbledore drew in a deep breath and nodded. Sirius turned to the children and first ordered Atria to her room. The details weren't for her ears. "For many years, the Dark Lord has been taking steps towards immortality."

Harry and Hermione exchanged concerned looks and sank down into one of the large armchairs. "There is a very ancient and dark form of magic that involves the breaking of one's soul into pieces. This is done by an act of ultimate evil, and the pieces are placed into an object of value so as to house the soul. This way, if the body is destroyed, the person cannot die."

"And Voldemort's made one," Hermione asked.

"Don't say his name," Sirius snapped at her. Hermione bit her bottom lip. "Not just one. We believe that he's split his soul into seven pieces."

"Seven," Harry asked, a deep frown forming.

Sirius and Dumbledore continued to describe their theories as to the locations and identities of the Horcruxes. "The cup that Draco brought to you is one as well."

"So, we have to find the rest of the immediately," Hermione said, her eyes shinning with determination. "Remind me, you've got the Ring, the Locket, the Cup, the Diary. The remaining pieces could be something of Ravenclaw's, Gryffindor's or the snake. The final piece is in Vol—I mean—You-Know-Who's body."

Dumbledore nodded. "This is correct."

"And what artifacts are likely to be left over from the Founders," she asked.

"Herein lies the problem, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "The Founders lived over a thousand years ago. We cannot be sure what they have left behind."

Hermione nodded and began to wring her hands. Harry knew that she was suddenly itching to get to the library where she would hunt down each and every book with any mentions of Rowena Ravenclaw or Godric Gryffindor.

An hour later, Hermione lived up to all of Harry's expectations. The common room of the Black family suite had become a miniature library. Books covered the surfaces of all the tables, and notes scribbled on parchment littered the couch where Hermione sat. Her eyes were flying over the words at an alarming speed. Despite Dumbledore's assurances that he had read each of these books, Hermione couldn't rest until she had complied her own set of notes about the Founders.

As she was a Gryffindor herself, she felt ashamed to discover that she had no idea what sort of objects Godric Gryffindor would have own and would have lasted through the ages. All she really knew was the morals he held dear. Bravery, chivalry, and daring. Champion of Muggle-borns. Hermione had always pictured Godric Gryffindor as a sort of knight, like someone who belonged in King Arthur's Court. But that didn't give her anymore clues as to what relics he had left behind.

She set aside a pile of red lined parchment sheets. Perhaps it would do best to put aside Gryffindor for a while to concentrate on Ravenclaw. She knew even less of her. She worried on her bottom lip for a few minutes before standing up and walking out of the room. She slipped into an empty office and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. The fireplace in the Black rooms were not connected to the network. "Xenophilius Lovegood," she said clearly as she stuck her head into the flames.

A moment later, a white haired man appeared in her vision. "Hello," he greeted. "Do I know you?"

"No, sir, Mr. Lovegood," Hermione said. "My name is Hermione Granger. I'm a friend of Luna's. Is she here by chance?"

"She's upstairs cleaning up the printing press. Shall I call her down for you?"

"Please, sir," Hermione answered, ignoring the soreness that was beginning to form in her knees.

A few moments later, Luna came floating into Hermione's view. She dropped down in front of the fire and said pleasantly, "Hello, Hermione." Hermione smiled. Luna Lovegood was as odd as they came, and certainly did not subscribe to Hermione's doctrine of gathering all the facts and looking at logic to for her opinions and views. But Luna was extremely perceptive and bluntly honest. She was a Ravenclaw. It had taken some time for Hermione to truly appreciate her, but they had become good friends while still in school.

"It's good to see you, Luna," Hermione said. "Listen, I need to talk to you about Rowena Ravenclaw. It's very important. Can you come to Hogwarts?"

"Is that where you are," Luna asked.

"Just come on through," Hermione said, stepping back to allow Luna room to enter. A moment later, Luna was brushing stray soot from her sleeves and regarding Hermione with her usual dreamy expression. "I hope you weren't too busy," Hermione said. "I really don't think it was wise to talk over the Floo."

"Yes, of course," Luna said simply. "Is this for the Order," she asked. Hermione smiled and nodded. Very perceptive.

"You understand that I can't tell you everything about why I need to know about Ravenclaw, don't you," she asked.

Luna nodded. "What do you need to know?"

"Rowena Ravenclaw was and is a highly respected witch. Any item that survived through the ages that once belonged to her would be highly valuable. I need to know what sort of an object that might be."

Luna tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I can show you a bust of her. It's in the Ravenclaw common room. That might help us to think." Luna led the way down the corridors to the west side of the castle. Luna reached up and took hold of an eagle shaped knocker. She rapped on the door once sharply. The eagle then presented the two women with a riddle. A moment later, they both answered to satisfaction, and the door opened.

Hermione was impressed with the Ravenclaw common room. Everything was decorated with a lovely dark blue material, and the ceiling was adorned with stars. They had a wonderful view of the distant mountains. Luna stepped up to a marble statue of a beautiful woman. "This is her," Luna said. "Very lovely, isn't she?"

Hermione nodded. She observed every inch of the statue. The statue was wearing a number of rings. Hermione couldn't imagine that Voldemort would use more than one ring for his Horcruxes. Her neck was covered in jewels. Perhaps there was a possibility. It looked highly valuable. Then there was also a tiara placed on her long hair.

"That is the diadem of Ravenclaw," Luna said. "It is fabled to have enhanced the wisdom of the wearer. It's been lost for centuries."

Hermione felt a jolt in her stomach. "And Ravenclaw held this item in high esteem?"

"Very high supposedly," Luna said. "It disappeared after her death. No one has seen it since."

"Luna, I think that what I'm looking for is the diadem. Are there any clues whatsoever as to its location?"

Luna tilted her head. "There's nothing written," she said. "Someone would have hunted it down by now. But you could always ask the Grey Lady."

"The Ravenclaw ghost," Hermione asked.

Luna nodded. "She was Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, after all."

Hermione thanked Luna and nearly scrambled from the room. She jumped on the first ghost that passed her way. "The Grey Lady," she asked, "have you seen her?" It took nearly a half hour before she finally found the regally dressed ghost. "Grey Lady," Hermione called, "I need to speak with you."

Helena Ravenclaw arched a slim brow at Hermione. "Yes," she asked.

"It's about your mother's diadem," Hermione said, and Helena's face darkened significantly.

"I have nothing to say about it," she said and began to float away.

"Wait," Hermione cried, running around to head off the ghost. She shivered when Helena brushed right through her. "This is important. This affects the entire wizarding world."

Helena stopped, glancing at Hermione haughtily over her shoulder. "I fail to see how Mother's diadem is so significant."

"Professor Dumbledore believes that someone might have found your mother's diadem and is using it for very Dark Magic," Hermione explained. Her eyes narrowed when she noticed that Helena's cheeks turned slightly opaque. "Please, can you tell me what happened to it?"

Helena was silent for a long moment before she said, "When I was still alive, I was very much jealous of my mother. She was beautiful and one of the most celebrated witches of the age. She casts a very long shadow." Hermione remained silent. "One day, I stole the diadem and ran away from Britain. I wanted to surpass her. Of course, Mother sent someone to retrieve me, the Baron."

"The Bloody Baron," Hermione couldn't help but ask.

Helena nodded. "He was in love with me, but I had refused his proposal of marriage many times. Mother knew that he would not return to the country without me. When he confronted me, I hid the diadem in a tree and refused to go back home. The Baron finally lost his temper with me and killed me. After coming to his senses, he killed himself. You'll notice he still wears his chains, as he should." Hermione nodded, simply to appease the ghost.

"And the diadem," she asked.

"It remained in the tree," Helena answered.

Hermione brightened. "It's still there?"

"I certainly don't know," Helena snapped. "I have not been there since my death."

Hermione rubbed her hands together. "Understandable," she said. "Where was this tree?"

"In Albania," Helena said, describing a forest full of magical energy. Hermione thought it sounded rather like the Dark Forest.

"I just need to ask you one more thing," Hermione asked. "Please, this is the most important. Did you ever tell anyone else about your mother's diadem?"

Helena was silent for several minutes. Her eyes were narrowed, and when she finally spoke, Hermione could detect a hint of shame. "Yes."

Hermione felt like her heart was about to explode from her chest. "What was his name?"

Helena drew in a deep breath, which, of course, had no actual affect, and said, "Tom Riddle."

Hermione turned on her heel and ran down the corridors. She skidded around the corner that led to Dumbledore's office and shouted the password to the gargoyle. It jumped to the side to allow Hermione access to the ever-winding staircase. Hermione took the stairs two at a time. She didn't knock on the door. Dumbledore looked up, his brows arching towards his hairline. "Miss Granger," he asked, as Sirius and James also turned to face her.

"What's going on, Hermione," James asked. "You look pretty winded."

"I know what the other Horcrux is," she cried, shutting the door behind her. "I found it!"

All three men jumped out of their seats. "You've got it," James asked with excitement.

"Well, not on me," Hermione admitted. "It's the lost diadem of Ravenclaw. I just spoke with the Grey Lady. She told me all about it. She took the diadem from her mother and ran away to Albania. She hid it in a forest before she was killed by the Bloody Barron. But she told Tom Riddle. He would have had plenty of time to collect it by now."

Dumbledore stroked his beard as he contemplated Hermione's words. "If Voldemort—" he ignored the hiss from Sirius "—did indeed turn the diadem into a Horcrux, there is still a chance that he left it in the forest. The diadem remained hidden there for a thousand years."

Sirius nodded. "I'll go collect it," he said.

James chuckled, although it was with very little humor. "Leave some for the rest of us, Padfoot. Hermione found out what the Horcrux was. Shouldn't she get to take a crack at it?"

"Me," Hermione asked, her voice rising slightly.

James nodded. "What do you say, Professor," he asked over Hermione's head. "I think she's earned herself a real mission."

"What about bringing Harry into the Order," she asked.

James waved his hand at her in a dismissing manner. "That doesn't count. You were the only one he'd talk to. This time, you're getting your name picked out of the hat."

"Some one has to go with her," Sirius said. "She isn't experienced enough to go out on her own. And this is something that can't be messed up."

Hermione glared at him, and James placed a calming hand on her shoulder. "He doesn't mean it like that," James assured her. "He knows you can hold your own. That's just his way of saying he's worried for you." Sirius looked like he would have liked very much to snort indignantly at him.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Miss Granger, are you willing to travel to Albania to collect the diadem?"

"If you'd like me to, sir," Hermione answered.

He nodded. "If you'll please. Now, there is the matter of who will go with you. Sirius is right. You cannot go alone. That would be very ill advised."

Hermione sent a tentative glance at Sirius before saying, "I think Harry would like to go. He's been pretty bored cooped up here."

The other three turned to look at Sirius. After a moment, he nodded. "Very well, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "You must depart soon. Discuss what you have told us with young Mr. Black. And remember to exercise great caution."

And so three days later, Hermione was cringing into Harry's back as they flew to Albania. Travel by broom would take several days, but the use of a Portkey would be traceable by the Ministry. They couldn't risk the chance that they would be discovered. The last thing the two young Order members needed was for Lord Voldemort to discover that his Horcruxes were being hunted. After Harry had given Sirius the Cup, they had arranged for Draco to act as a spy from within the high-class society. Draco, as well as Harry, had been strenuously taught Occlumency. Sirius was confident that Draco's level of skill could hold up to the Dark Lord as long as Draco gave him no cause for suspicion. So far, things were going their way. The Dark Lord was unaware as to this most secret of missions. They just needed their luck to hold up a little longer.


	40. Into Albania

**Chapter 40**

It was a boy.

It was a beautiful, wonderful, perfect baby boy. Remus Lupin had not stopped grinning for the past seven hours. Just a few days ago, his wife had gone into labor, and now they were the proud parents of a little, tiny baby boy. His name was Ted Remus Lupin. Tonks's father had been killed in a recent attack, and they had decided to honor their son with his name. Little Teddy was perfect in every way. When he had been born, his hair had been as black as night, but it had steadily been growing lighter by the hour. When Lily fished out her camera to take a picture of the new family, it had shot to a bright turquoise.

Remus couldn't express how relieved he was that Teddy took after Tonks. Throughout this whole pregnancy, he'd been terrified to think that he could have transferred his condition onto an innocent child, but it seemed that all his fears were for naught. Two nights later had been the full moon, and Tonks assured him that Teddy had not even flinched.

Lily and James had been named the baby's godparents. Lily had already assured Remus and Tonks that she had ever intention to spoil the child so thoroughly that they might become disgusted with Teddy's need for attention and material possessions. James promised to teach Teddy every trick in the Marauders' book and to never edit school time stories about his old man. They had all laughed that Teddy would never have respect for his parents.

Remus had wasted no time running around to all his friends in the Order, waving the pictures they'd taken so far of the baby under noses. Teddy's bright tuff of hair had secured an upturned lip of disgust from Sirius. "You should discourage that immediately. Tell that woman of yours to stop coloring her hair," he said when Tonks and Remus brought the baby to Hogwarts one afternoon. In response, Tonks arranged her hair to a neon green Mohawk affair. Teddy imitated it, much to everyone's (excluding the Blacks) delight.

* * *

The forest was dark. Of course, Hermione hadn't really expected it to be bright and cheerful. It reminded her of the Dark Forest on the school grounds. The trees were black and mangled, as though they had been burned by some long ago fire and never recovered. The sky was in a constant state of grey, always covering the light from the sun, moon, and stars. The air was stale and cold and full of magic.

They were doing most of their journeying by foot. If the Diadem was really still here, then there was no doubt that it would be under atrocious amounts of magical protection. The best way to avoid tripping the wards would be to sneak in under more Muggle-ish means. There would be no mistaking someone Apparating into the area. Using any more magic than was necessary was foolish.

Progress as slow, as they were forced to cram under the Invisibility Cloak that James Potter had lent them. It was a miraculous thing, very old and still in perfect condition. At nights, they set up a tent and surrounded themselves with every protection ward they could imagine. Although they had seen no other signs of life (outside of woodland animals), there was no reason to not remain cautious.

Hermione had packed a miniature library into the small bag they were using to house all their equipment. She and Harry tended to spend most nights reading and catching up on various spells before they went to sleep. They had to stay on their toes, especially Harry. If all of this destiny and prophecy business was true, then he needed to get up to speed. The Dark Lord had many years of experience over him, and that did not bode well.

"How much more of this forest do you think we've left to search," Hermione asked one night.

"It had better not be much," Harry growled. "We've been out here for over a bloody month."

Hermione nodded. "I'm ready to get home too. We haven't been able to get any news out here. What if things have just gone completely hatstand?"

"I'm sure that if things had gone so badly, they would have found a way to let us know," Harry reassured her. "The Order has methods of secure communication, don't they?"

"Of course," Hermione said. "Patronuses."

"Someone would send one our way if things had gotten out of hand."

It was another week or so before they made any matter of progress. And Hermione could hardly call it that. They had been making their way through the forest in their usual manner, slumped under the Cloak and moving at a snail's pace. Harry suddenly grabbed her arm to stop her and slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle any sounds. Hermione looked up at him and then followed his gaze out into the forest.

She managed to hold in a gasp. A dark figure dressed in thick black robes was stalking through the mangled trees. Harry and Hermione remained still as statues under the Cloak, both very thankful to have its protection. Every couple of minutes, the figure would stop and slowly turn in circles before continuing its trek.

It was a guard. That figure was out here as a spy and a watchful eye. The Death Eater robes were unmistakable. Hermione couldn't help but grin. They had been right. Voldemort had hidden something out here, and it was most assuredly the Diadem. They were getting closer.

Harry and Hermione didn't move any further that day, and they were extra careful in setting their wards that evening. Even inside the tent, they spoke in hushed whispers, their heads bent together as though they were students trying to avoid the teacher's attention during class. "It's all fine and everything that we seem to be getting closer," Harry said, "but the guards worry me."

"Why," Hermione asked.

"I'd have thought you'd guess," Harry said snippily with a smirk, and Hermione offered him a glare that said she was not in the mood. "The Dark Lord has not set up guards on any of the other Horcruxes. There are, of course, traps, like the Inferi in the cave."

"He did give two of them to Lucius Malfoy and Sirius though," Hermione argued.

"To hide," Harry said. "Malfoy Manor and Grimmauld Place are excellently protected, and he knew that no one would ever be able to break inside of them to steal the Horcrux away, provided they learned about them. But he didn't expect any one to know anything about them."

Hermione nodded. "He would have guarded the Ring better, if so." Dumbledore had told them that there are been not even so much as a ward to protect the Ring hidden in the Gaunt shack. "So why the guards here? You don't think—"

"That he's figured out someone's looking for his Horcruxes," Harry finished. "I damned sure hope not. He'll know in an instant if the Cup at Malfoy Manor is a fake, and that would be the end of my cousins."

"We could run into problems ourselves," Hermione said. "If he's got a clue as to what's going on, then he'll go and check all of his Horcruxes. He'll find that the Cup is wrong, and like you said, your family will have to answer for that. He'll know that Sirius has the Diary. The Ring and the Locket will be gone too. So that leaves only the Diadem and whatever else—"

"The snake," Harry said.

"Possibly the snake," Hermione relented. "We don't know for sure. If it's the snake, he'll know she's safe because she's always with him. He'll come here. These Horcruxes are extremely important to him, so I can't imagine that he'd just leave guarding them all up to Death Eater flunkies."

"We could be lucky, and he's already come," Harry said. Hermione ran her hands through her hair, causing the already bushy mess to stick up oddly. Harry couldn't help but look on the action fondly. Their children's hair wouldn't stand a chance.

"I suppose," Hermione said thoughtfully. "We should just hope he doesn't know, and these guards are simply a precaution."

They would have to be extra cautious from now on. They stopped setting up the tent in different locations. Constant use of magic like that would easily draw attention. Hermione had suggested going out only one at a time, leaving someone behind to guard the tent, but Harry forbade it. "It's not good for either of us to be alone," he said. "If the tent is discovered empty, that's one thing. But if one of us is in it." He let Hermione deduce the implications. "At least out there we have the Cloak and can Disapparate."

Progress still remained slow. They snuck around the forest as silently as possible, checking physically in trees and under rocks. "This seems like a poor way to hide something so valuable," Hermione breathed into Harry's ear as they crawled through a hollow log. "Surely there's a more secure location we just haven't found yet."

For days, they managed to avoid seeing a guard again. Then, one afternoon, they heard muffled voices. Harry pulled Hermione after him, slowly and carefully making his way over the dried leaves on the forest floor. Once they were close enough to both clearly see and hear the Death Eaters, they crouched down beside a blackened tree.

"You don't have to be so snippy," one said. She was a small woman, all too thin and pale. Her hair was cropped short to her head in a greasy, brown mess. She spoke with a high-pitched and nasally voice that made Harry cringe. "All I was saying was that I was bored out here."

"Be bored all you want," her partner said. "Just stop telling me about it." He was as large as the woman was tiny. His shoulders were wide, and he had a bit of a gut. In his younger years, he might have had a very athletic physique. "Your voice is annoying."

"You aren't my favorite person either, jackass," the woman snapped. They were silent for several minutes before she spoke again. "I don't see why we have to sit out here."

"For the hundredth time, woman, the Master said to do it, so unless you want to be killed, then shut up and do your job," the man growled.

"I'm just saying he didn't even tell us what we're guarding, if there even is anything out here. Not like he gave any specifics," she mumbled.

"Maybe he didn't tell you anything because he knew you can't keep that hold in your face shut," the man offered.

Rather than be insulted, the woman's eyes lit up. "You know what we're watching," she asked with delight. "I can't believe you never told me. Out with it, man!"

"Can't you mind your own business," he asked, pushing her away from him. "This is on a need to know basis."

The woman rolled her eyes. "I think I classify as need to know," she said. "I've been wasting away out here for months guarding some possibly imaginary who-knows-what against people who aren't even showing up! Throw me a bone here."

"I'll throw your bones to the nearest dragon if you don't shut up!" The woman made a rude hand gesture and slumped against a large rock.

It was silent again. Harry and Hermione remained crouched down by the tree. Harry wasn't sure how long it had been, but his knees and ankles were aching. He stiffened at the sound of rustling leaves. Hermione's hand tightened around his arm. The Death Eaters looked up sharply but relaxed a moment later. It was more of their own ranks. Two arrived together, and a third a few moments later.

The first man seemed to be able to relax more with these new additions. As it was very evident that this was their camp area, and Harry didn't foresee learning anything new from eavesdropping, he leaned into Hermione's hair and breathed as softly as he could, "Let's go."

They rose slowly, various joints protesting. About halfway up, a loud crack sounded through the forest. Harry and Hermione froze as the Death Eaters leapt to attention. Harry turned a furious glare to Hermione, who looked both horrified and sheepish. "Somebody's here," one of the Death Eaters cried.

"I don't see anyone," hissed another.

A second later, the large man whirled around to face Harry and Hermione, pointing to their still invisible forms. "THERE," he roared.

Harry shoved Hermione to the ground, jumping out of the way of the curse and screaming one of his own. Hermione was on her feet a second later. She threw the Cloak out of her way and began flinging spells at her attackers. A spell hit her in the chest, flinging her back into a tree and knocking her breath from her. The Death Eater had his wand locked onto her. Harry thundered, "_AVADA_—"

"_STUPEFY_," Hermione screamed. The Death Eater dropped. He was the last one. The others were all sprawled out along the forest floor in various incapacitated states.

After a quick glance around to make sure there were no more coming and that those already there were definitely out of action, Harry turned to Hermione angrily. "What the hell, Muggle? You could have gotten us killed!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was shaking slightly. "My knee popped, Harry," she said. "I can't help that. You're the one who had us crouching down there for two hours."

Of course, she couldn't really be blamed, but situations that involved Hermione in harm's way always made Harry irrational. He crossed his arms. "Then do you care to explain that," he asked, jerking his head at the most recently felled Death Eater.

"We can't kill them," Hermione said.

"I don't know if you recognized the spell that he was about to fire, Muggle, but I certainly wasn't going to provide you with a bouquet of daisies," Harry snapped. "These people aren't going to extend mercy to you. You can't go around—"

"Oh, shut up," Hermione barked. "We can't kill them because if we do then he would know that we've been here for sure." Harry opened his mouth to retort but quickly fell silent. Hermione offered him a smug look, and Harry toyed with the idea of enlarging her teeth. Perhaps later.

"What do you suggest now," he asked. Hermione began to fumble with their little bag of supplies. She opened it and stuck her hand inside, the limb disappearing almost to her shoulder. After a few moments of fumbling, Hermione pulled out a small vial filled with a colorless liquid. "Is that—"

"Veritaserum," Hermione said. "Lily gave it to me before we left."

Harry leaned against a tree, his arms crossed and a brow arched. "The Potters like to shower you with fancy gifts, don't they?"

Hermione ignored his snarky comment. "We can use it to find out what all they know. Then, we'll Obliviate them and erase all traces that we were here."

"Hand it over, then," Harry said, holding out a hand. Hermione dropped the vial, and they made their way over to the large man. He had been placed in a Full Body Bind. His face was frozen in fury as Harry tipped a few drops into his mouth. After his eyes had gone properly glassy, Hermione removed the spell. "Who is your master," Harry began.

"I serve the Dark Lord," the man answered.

"What is your name?"

"Robert Sandlehaven," he responded. Harry nodded at Hermione's questioning look.

"How long have you been in these woods?"

"Five months," he said.

"What are you guarding," Harry asked.

"I don't know," he said.

"What information did the Dark Lord give to you before sending you here?"

"The Dark Lord said that there was something important about these woods. He had been here once and found something amazing. He said that one day someone might try to find that thing, and he wanted to know whom," he answered.

"But you don't know what the thing is," Harry asked sharply.

"No," the same answer came.

"Did the Dark Lord move the object," Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Sandlehaven answered.

"What do you think he did?"

Sandlehaven was silent for a moment before responding. "I think it isn't here. I think the Dark Lord put it somewhere else."

"Do you know what Horcruxes are," Harry asked.

"No," came the answer.

"Did all five of you come to the woods at the same time?"

"No."

Harry growled. "What order," he asked. "Give me dates." The man then recounted that he and two others had come first, the others joining them last month. "Put him back under," Harry said before moving onto the last two Death Eaters. He gave them some of the potion and demanded, "Names."

"Felix Kolas."

"Vida Tollopus."

"Have you ever heard the Dark Lord mention anything about Horcruxes," Harry asked sharply.

"No," they both responded.

Harry and Hermione continued to question them from every angle they could think of until they were sure that the Dark Lord was unaware of the Horcrux hunt. "We should get out of here," Hermione said. "Out of this whole forest."

"We don't have the Diadem yet," Harry reminded her.

"You heard him," Hermione said, pointing to Sandlehaven. "It's not here."

"He doesn't know that," Harry said. "He gave us his honest opinion, but it's nothing based in fact."

"I know that," Hermione said, "but I'm convinced he's right. It's been moved out of here, probably a long time ago, and they're all just here as a precautionary measure."

"There were no guards for the others," Harry began.

"Only the Ring," Hermione corrected. "Let's just go ahead and assume your father and Lucius Malfoy were guards, however unwittingly. And we certainly can't say the Inferi weren't guarding the Locket. He probably never expected the Grey Lady to tell anyone else her story, but I'm sure he didn't think it was completely impossible. After all, what's there really to stop her? She can't be afraid of death at his hands. She's already dead. And you heard Dumbledore. He's never going to think that someone would ever connect him to the Guants. That's why there was no guard there."

"All right, all right," Harry relented. "Let's take care of them, then."

The Death Eaters all had their memories of the incident erased carefully and were then Stunned. Harry arranged them all in natural positions so that when they awoke it would seem as though they had been sleeping. Hermione made her way around their campsite, repairing damages and eradicating all signs of a battle. They grabbed the Cloak and ran back to their own tent. They packed, removed signs of their presence, and decided to hell with further prudence. They Disapparated.


	41. Attack On The Ministry

**First, I would like to apologize for months without updates on this story. Writers block is a killer, and ever since the high from Deathly Hollows wore off, I've been having trouble getting excited about any sort of series at all. Twilight is helping with that, as long as I don't think about the glaring lack of plot and character development. But, since the latest HBP trailer, I've gotten back into the swing of things. I finally managed to finish this chapter, the first bit of which has been written for months. **

**Secondly, in my renewed state of yay for this story and Harry Potter in general, I've gone back through the story and done some editing. I've fixed spelling/grammar errors where I saw them, and have just done some other clean ups. Nothing about the basic plot has changed, so there isn't really any need to go back and reread, unless you're just curious. Most of the changes are from the first few chapters. But one important note is a few name changes for some of the Black cousins. I decided that the whole star theme they have going on is much more fun than random names pulled from a baby name website. Therefore, Bella's children have been changed from Cassius and Katia to Castor and Capella. Obviously, they aren't important to the story, but there you go. More importantly, Sirius's daughter also had a name change. Jacqueline is now Atria. I wanted to find a star that began with J, but none of them fit well. **

**Now, please excuse any spelling/grammar errors that I missed in the editing, and please let me know if there are any that are just terrible. Also, please remember to review. It's been so long since I've heard from y'all and I miss it! **

* * *

**Chapter 41**

The Forest outside of Hogwarts was dark. Harry ran through the trees, dragging Hermione behind him by her hand. She was tripping over raised roots, stray branches and rocks, but Harry just yanked her back up and onward. They had spent the past couple of months searching the darkest forests of Albania looking for one of the Dark Lord's Horocruxes. They had not been successful, and after questioning a number of Death Eater guards, they were both convinced that the Dark Lord was not hiding his treasured object in that far away country. Both Harry and Hermione were anxious to return to the safety of the castle and make their report.

"We—we're on school grounds," Hermione gasped as Harry pulled her through one of the castle's numerous secret passages. "Do we have to—to keep running?" Harry knew that if he looked over his shoulder, her cheeks would be flushed red. Hermione wasn't much of an athlete.

He didn't answer her. Harry ran past the staff and visitor wing of the castle heading around towards the headmaster's office. He would have much preferred to see his father and sister before making his report, but he knew that this was a more important matter in the long run. Sirius and Atria would be there when he was done.

They arrived in Dumbledore's office, Hermione leaning heavily on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. Harry's chest heaved a bit, but he stood straight and informed Dumbledore of their time out of the country and what they had learned from the Death Eaters. Dumbledore nodded. "I think that you are correct," he said. "The Horocrux is somewhere closer to home, somewhere Lord Voldemort—" He ignored Harry's fierce frown "—can reach it easily."

"And what's been happening here," Harry demanded. "We hadn't received any sort of news."

"There was nothing substantial to report," Dumbledore replied, but he gave them a quick run down of recent events. Hermione drew in sharp breath at the climbing death rate. The list included people with whom she had gone to school.

Their business done with the headmaster, Harry took Hermione's hand and led her back down to the Black Family's suite. Sirius clapped a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder and offered Hermione a curt nod while Harry was nearly tackled by Atria. After hearing what they had learned in Albania, Sirius told Hermione to go to Godric's Hollow, where the Potters would be glad to see her home safe. Hermione nodded and slipped out the room, only sparing Harry a parting glance. Atria was still very against her brother's relationship with the "filthy" Muggle girl, and even if she had been understanding, Hermione didn't want to run the risk of Sirius disliking her any more than he already did.

The Potters offered Hermione a much more enthusiastic greeting than the Blacks. Lily yanked Hermione through the threshold of the house and pulled her into a crushing hug. James ruffled her hair beyond hopes of taming, and they brought her into the sitting room for tea and discussions. "That was a wise move, not killing him," Lily agreed. "They'd have known in an instant."

"But we aren't any closer to finding the Horocrux," Hermione complained. "We wasted all that time in Albania."

"You didn't," James said. "We know it isn't out there. It's somewhere in England, which gives us a much smaller range."

"But Albania was the best clue," Hermione said. "That's where the Grey Lady kept it."

"Voldemort isn't the Grey Lady," James said. "You said the Death Eaters out in the forest weren't high up in the ranks. There's no way he would keep something so important under such pathetic supervision. The ones that he handed out were entrusted to his highest-ranking officers, and hidden ones were in places that no one would have ever thought to connect him. We can assume now that he's used these methods to hide the last ones."

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Hermione asked. "She'd do anything for him, no questions asked."

James grimaced. "She's a saint like that," he said meanly. Neither woman thought to correct him for his rudeness.

"That gives us a person, assuming the Horocrux has a caretaker," Lily said. "And Bellatrix is the most likely candidate, considering Lucius Malfoy and Sirius had the others. I suppose the other side of it is to think of places Voldemort is connected to."

"If they're places he thinks no one else knows of his connection to, then how are we to find them," Hermione asked.

"The best bet, as always, is Dumbledore," James said. "Dumbledore's the one who knows him best, the one that's watched him grow up."

"It's hard to imagine him as a kid, as Tom Riddle," Hermione said. Lily suddenly leapt from her seat, causing Hermione and James to jump. Hermione placed a hand over her heart, and James had his wand out, eyes searching for danger.

"That's an idea," Lily cried. "Oh, put away your wand, dear, it's nothing." She pulled out her own wand and conjured a Patronus. The silvery doe took off. Lily turned back to them and answered the unspoken question. "Riddle Manor. Voldemort's bound to think that no one ties him to those Muggles anymore, if they ever even knew to do so in the first place. It's a place to look, if nothing else."

"I suppose Snape will poke around to find it," James said.

"Or Draco," Hermione added.

Hermione stayed at her parents' house that night, and the Grangers were nearly beside themselves to see her safely home. The next morning, before heading back to Hogwarts, Hermione stopped off at the Burrow. Molly gushed as she prepared Hermione a plate of breakfast. Just a couple of weeks ago Bill and Fleur had announced that they would be having a baby. Hermione was delighted at the news and made a mental note to send her personal congratulations to Shell Cottage.

* * *

Lord Voldemort regarded the tall black structure hungrily. Azkaban prison. It was the most infamous wizard prison in the world, renowned for its use of Dementors as guards. Those who deserved the strictest of sentences were sent to this veritable hellhole. Over the past thirty years or so, most of the inmates admitted into Azkaban were branded with the Dark Mark.

So many followers, Voldemort mused. There were so many in there. They lay in wait, serving as prey for the Dementors, wasting away and hoping against hope that they might one day see freedom again.

Voldemort supposed that many of them had gone insane during their internment. He smiled. They would only serve him all the better for it. There would be no shred of morality left in their withered bodies to stop them from carrying out his orders as ruthlessly as possible.

Now was as good a time as any to take the prison. At any given moment there were only a small number of human guards on the premises. And Voldemort could offer the Dementors so much more than their current human masters.

With a simple motion from her master, Bellatrix Lestrange led the charge down to the prison. Explosions rocked the surface of the building, blowing away chunks of wall. From his post high above, Voldemort could hear Bella's cackling laughter as she flew, and he smiled. She was such a dear girl.

When the screams echoed up into his ears, Voldemort descended into the prison structure. His Death Eaters were blasting the bars away from cells, dragging inmates to their feet. Dementors swooped down on Aurors, sucking their souls slowly from their bodies. Voldemort watched as the guards Kissed their former masters. When the last of the Aurors fell silent, eyes wide and staring at nothing, the Dementors turned to face Voldemort. One extended a hand towards him, a sign that they were ready to do his bidding now.

Voldemort was pleased. The entire sacking of the prison had taken hardly fifteen minutes. His Death Eaters rounded up all the prisoners. Voldemort inspected all of them, immediately killing those who were too far-gone to even understand what was happening around them or those who had been in the process of starving themselves to death.

To those who remained, he said, "Long you have all suffered here at the hands of the Ministry of Magic. Join me, and I will allow you revenge against those who have wronged you."

Many, those who had been arrested for service to him, immediately cheered and fell into groveling bows. They were separated from the rest and given wands. Voldemort turned blazing eyes to those who had yet to respond. It did not take much in the way of persuasion to convince nearly all of them to enter into his army. Those who refused were dealt with painfully.

Bellatrix stepped up to him, beaming lovingly at him as usual. "It is all yours, Master."

"Well done, Bella," he said, and she gushed. "See to it that our newest friends are taken care of. We still have much to do today." She bowed low and hurried to do as he commanded. He turned his attentions back to the waiting Dementors.

"You have been held prisoners here as much as they," he said lowly. "Go out, feed as you desire. Muggles, wizards, whatever pleases you." The Dementors again extended their graying, decayed hands and rushed from the prison. Out in the open, they would be able to multiply, spreading their depressing effects all over the country.

When the newest troops were ready, Voldemort called his officers to him. "You know the plans. Take them with you, and do not fail me." They Disapparated with loud pops.

* * *

An explosion rocked the ground floor of the Ministry of Magic, sending tremors throughout all the other levels. James Potter was on his feet in less than an instant, wand in hand and running down the corridors of the Auror division. "Everybody up!" They didn't need to be told. As James sprinted, Aurors were pouring out of their cubicles and offices.

Another explosion. Warning sirens were blaring through the halls. The monotonic voice from the speakers said calmly, "Emergency. Please proceed to the nearest Apparation point or fireplace."

"What the hell is going on," someone yelled.

A Partonus suddenly burst through the wall in front of James. He recognized it in an instant. Alastor Moody's voice echoed from within the silvery bobcat. "Death Eaters arriving from the Floo entryway. Visitors' entrance destroyed. Evacuate through the lower tunnels." The bobcat turned and ran off, looking for more Odrer members to relay commands to.

James spun around to face the Aurors behind him. A few were staring wide-eyed where the Patronus had disappeared. The use of Patronuses for communication was a method discovered by Dumbledore and used solely among members of the Order of the Phoenix. Not many of the Aurors with James would have even known such a thing was possible.

"We have to make sure that the evacuating employees get out safely," James said. "Bones, take a team of seven and get them to an Apparation safe point."

Amelia Bones nodded sharply and called to some younger members. "You lot, with me." They took off down the hallway.

"The rest of you, down to the entry points," James said, leading the way to the entry hall where numerous fireplaces lined the halls.

Explosions continued to rock the Ministry, and James knew that wards were being destroyed. With each failed ward, more and more Death Eaters would be able to infiltrate the Ministry. James sped up.

As they neared the entry hall, James was overcome with a terrible sense of dread. It was cold and dark.

Dementors.

What in the hell were Dementors doing here? They should have been in Azkaban. The dread in James's stomach increased tenfold. A dark shape flashed into his line of vision, and James acted. He pushed past the terror growing in his mind and the feeling of despondency in his heart. He thought of the day his daughter was born, picturing Lily, propped on pillows with sweat-soaked hair and ruined make-up, holding the tiny red-faced bundle. It had been one of the most beautiful sights James had ever witnessed. "_EXPECTO PATRONUM_!"

The stag burst from the tip of his wand, charging ahead of the Auror team. A split second later, others joined it, plowing into the stream of Dementors swooping through the halls and chasing those that tried to flee. James ran into the entry hall, spells blazing from his wand in rapid succession. The sight of the Patronuses would have given them away, and there was no time for the Aurors to enter into the fray with caution.

It was chaos. Employees attempting to evacuate through the fireplaces had run right into the Death Eaters' hands. Bodies were already piling up. Hardly any were brave enough to take out their own wands and defend themselves. Most were running, panicked and screaming, trying to find any possible escape from the enemy.

James felled a masked figure and quickly sent out a Patronus to contact any available Order member in the area. Sirius had plans to be at Grimmauld Place that afternoon. Sick of living at Hogwarts even after exposing himself after his second turning, Sirius was setting up more wards before safely returning his children to the Black family home. Today, they had been planning to place the Fidelius Charm on the old home, with Sirius himself as Secret Keeper. James just hoped Sirius wasn't gone when the Patronus arrived. It would take too long to reach Hogwarts.

James dodged a Bone-Breaking Curse, throwing a Body-Bind Curse back at his attacker. The Dark wizard fell to the ground with a loud thud. James spun, shooting a stream of flames at the billowing cloaks of more Death Eaters.

James was suddenly hoisted up into the air by his ankle, and he cursed loudly, his wand still flinging spells. "_Liberacorpus_!" he snarled, and fell back towards the ground. He quickly cast a cushioning charm to soften his fall.

Before he could begin to pick himself up, a hand grabbed a fistful of James's robes and yanked him to his feet. For a second, James's heart stopped, and he braced himself. But then, he looked into the familiar grey eyes of his best friend.

Sirius Black released James, throwing a Conjunctivitus Curse over his shoulder. They stood, shoulder to shoulder, as they had once done so often many years ago. It felt good to James, familiar and safe, to fight beside Sirius this way, rather than against him.

It was the oldest of their habits, falling into perfect synchronization, using each other's strengths and weaknesses to the best advantage. What James lacked, Sirius made up for, and vice versa. James couldn't help but grin when Sirius felled several of his enemies—former allies—with a creative and obscure string of jinxes.

They stood as the forefront of the guard against the deeper parts of the Ministry. Every so often, James spared a fraction of a second to check the Aurors behind them, to make sure that they were holding their own and pleased to see that they had managed to create a perimeter around several fireplaces. But there was still a huge swell of panicked Ministry employees trying to shove each other through the exits. Those not behind the vigilant Aurors were easy targets for the Death Eaters.

Sirius threw the Cruciatus Curse against Avery, and James didn't have time to frown disapprovingly. Maybe he'd remember it later and bring it up. He hated when Sirius used Dark magic in battle.

Other Order members had shown up a few minutes after Sirius. Moody was barreling his way through the crowds, curses flying expertly. Tonks, recently back in the field after her maternity leave, followed closely after her old Mentor, stumbling slightly, but holding her own.

James saw a flash of red hair and knew that Lily was there too. His blood ran cold, as it always did when he knew that she was in a battle. He hated thinking of it, but he knew that he could and would never tell Lily that she couldn't fight when she was needed. Lily had to sit on the sidelines enough as it was, she said.

The Death Eaters were many, far out numbering the gathered Aurors and Order members. They pushed forward, backing their met resistance closer and closer to the entrance to the deeper parts of the Ministry.

James threw a spell in front of Sirius when the other didn't notice a jet of green light headed their way. Such a simple spell was no match for the Killing Curse, so James dragged Sirius to the ground in the second the shield bought them. Sirius let out a simple grunt of thanks, slashing his wand forward as he leapt back up.

James wasn't sure how he managed to catch sight of it, but somehow in the midst of the frightened crowd, James picked out the Minister of Magic. What in the name of Merlin's beard he was doing down at this part of the Ministry, James couldn't be sure. Even more worrisome was that he hadn't been evacuated through the more secure tunnels.

The Death Eaters pushed forward again, Dementors swooping down. Sirius cast his Patronus out into the fray, and the silver dog almost seemed to snap at the decaying creatures. Some the werewolf pack, led by Greyback, attacked with nails and teeth. Inferi dragged themselves into the crowd, mindlessly grabbing screaming victims who didn't think to conjure fire.

The Minister was almost out of the Ministry; Savage was ushering him to the green flames.

There was a shout, a jet of eerie light, and the Minister crumpled to the ground.

James sucked in a sharp breath. Sirius spun to where Bellatrix was absolutely howling with delight. Sirius ran forward to meet her (James cringing as he did, for he hated to be away from Sirius in battle), and she eagerly accepted the challenge. The cousins both possessed prodigious talents. Even in the deadly game they played—taunting and spinning and attacking—it was spectacular to watch. But James didn't have time.

A new wave of panic had erupted again. The Minister was dead; there was no need to even check the body for a pulse. People were now being trampled in attempts to exit the Ministry. Aurors were pushed aside and thrown into oncoming curses from the Death Eaters.

James rolled to avoid a Reductor Curse and winced as fragments of the floor slammed into his body. Those would leave nasty bruises.

Bellatrix hit Sirius with the Cruciatus Curse. He buckled and fell to the floor, but pushed through the pain enough to bring up his wand. Bellatrix slumped as she was Stunned, but Rodolphus was there in an instant, Disapparating with her in his arms. Sirius stood on shaking legs just in time to see a flash of green slam into Moody's chest.

"NO!"

"MAD-EYE!"

Tonks was reeling, trying to run forward to her old Mentor, but Lily was dragging her back. Sirius and James turned furious eyes out into the Death Eaters. Without proper thought, they charged forward, other Aurors behind them. The resolve to push the Death Eaters from the Ministry was increased exponentially.

Too many long and bloody minutes later, the Death Eaters sent up the signal to retreat. The Aurors continued to send curse after curse into the thinning mass of black robes. They were almost gone.

"_Sectumsempra!_"

Sirius fell to the ground with a painful scream, blood gushing from a deep cut on his leg. James jumped in front of his friend, throwing spell after spell until the last of the Death Eaters were finally gone. He lowered his wand shakily and turned to face Sirius.

Lily was already there, her hands helping Sirius to apply firm pressure to the wound. James paled. There was already far too much blood pooling around them, staining their hands and clothes. "It's too deep for me to heal," Lily was saying to Sirius, whose face was white. She looked up, frowning. "James!"

He nodded. Knowing that Lily would take care of Sirius as well as James could himself, James turned on his heel and hurried over to begin to deal with chaos the Death Eaters had left in their wake.


	42. Promises

**I've gotten into a very bad habit of not wanting to update this story. My apologies to anyone out there who's still reading this. I'll try to do better, but the horrible lack of Harry Potter in my life now if making it hard for my muse to get into this. But I'll try to not take so long for the next chapter. **

* * *

**Chapter 42**

Lily Apparated into the Shrieking Shack, her free arm clutching Sirius. Her hands immediately went back to pressing down on the deep wound in Sirius's leg. Although she knew it was for the safety of the students that only special fireplaces were connected to Hogwarts via the Floo Network, Lily silently cursed the system. They would have already been in the Hospital Wing if not for it. Lily pushed the thought aside and asked, "Do you think you can stand? Or should I conjure a stretcher?"

Sirius's face was white as he spoke. "Help me up and let's find out." His bloody hands stayed firmly on the wound, and Lily hooked her arms under his, heaving up with all her might. Both grunted with the effort, and a moment later, Sirius was standing. Gingerly, he tried to put some of his weight onto his right leg. He nearly fell, cursing, but Lily caught him.

"Stretcher," she said, fishing her wand back out of her pocket. Lily set off at a brisk pace down to the tunnel while Sirius sat, doing his best to rip the ends of his shirt with one hand and make a temporary tie to cut the blood flow. As they made their way out from under the Whomping Willow, a silvery phoenix found them, and Dumbledore's voice informed them of an Inner Circle meeting.

"Where are you going," Sirius asked as Lily made her way through the castle halls. "The meeting room is that way."

"We aren't going to the meeting," Lily said. "You have to get to the Hospital Wing."

"That can wait," Sirius snapped.

Lily fixed him with a harsh glare over her shoulder. "Like hell it can," she snapped back. "You've already lost too much blood. You can't fool me, Sirius." Sirius glowered at her.

Thankfully, there were no students when they entered the Hospital Wing. Pomfrey sprang into action, helping Lily to move Sirius onto a bed. "What were you hit with," she asked as she cut away a section of Sirius's trousers to gain better access to the injury.

"Sectumsempra," Sirius said, and Lily frowned. The spell was a terribly violent one, created by Severus Snape. She hadn't seen him in the chaos at the Ministry, but it was his specialty. She didn't like to think that Severus would throw such a dangerous spell at an ally—despite their great distain for each other—but Lily had to be realistic. Snape would play his part well if there were other Death Eaters around to see him.

Pomfry frowned. "I don't know that spell," she said. Lily too was worried. She knew that Severus would have created a countercurse, but she wasn't sure of what that incantation might be.

"It doesn't matter," Sirius said through his teeth. "Just do a quick heal."

"Sirius," Lily began, but he turned up to glare at her.

"We don't have time," he said. "Just make sure I don't bleed to death, and the rest can be taken care of later." Lily met his glare with one of equal ferocity. They couldn't speak openly in front of Pomfrey, but Lily knew Sirius well enough—even after all their years apart—to have a silent conversation with him. Sirius didn't want to miss the meeting, especially not after what had just happened at the Ministry. Lily, however, was of the opinion that they could be updated later.

Of course, Sirius hated to be left out of things, even for a moment. After the death of his brother, he didn't tolerate it.

Lily didn't like it, but she recognized when she had come to a draw with Sirius. They would compromise. Sirius would attend the meeting, but he would come back to the hospital immediately afterwards. "Masochist," Lily muttered. "Just wrap up the wound, Poppy. We have to leave."

Pomfrey jerked her head up to stare at Lily. "His femoral vein has been severed," she said, slowly so as to emphasize the severity of the situation.

"Did you not hear me before, woman," Sirius barked. "Just make sure I don't die, and I'll come back in here later!" She looked ready to protest, but Sirius yelled, "NOW!"

Pomfrey did not look happy as she set to work. She had time to only seal the vein before Sirius was urging her to move faster. "I need to wrap it," she retorted harshly.

So while Pomfrey wrapped gauze thickly around his leg, Lily took out her wand and cleaned the blood from both hers and Sirius's hands. "There's really no reason why you can't sit this one out," she murmured into his ear. "I know you hate any and all sidelines, but there's nothing wrong with this." Sirius just narrowed his eyes in response and pushed himself up from the bed the second Pomfrey sealed the bandages.

Lily and Sirius were the first to arrive of those who had actually been in the Ministry. Harry and Hermione both stood sharply at the sight of Sirius hobbling into the meeting room. "Father, what happened to you," Harry asked, hurrying over to take Sirius from Lily's grasp. Sirius shook his head and pushed Harry's concerned hands away. Harry and Hermione relocated to the seats at Sirius's left, and Lily remained at his right side, her hands tightly clutching his.

James was the last to arrive. He immediately went to Lily's side, watching Sirius with great concern as he wrapped his arms around his wife. Even as Dumbledore began to speak, Lily did not take her hand away from Sirius's. He was gripping hers like a lifeline, and Lily could see that his jaw was very tightly clenched.

"Why didn't we know about this," James asked, his hazel eyes focusing on Snape.

"James," Dumbledore said warningly.

Snape narrowed his eyes as he responded. "The Dark Lord did not share plans of this raid with me. For all that he does trust me with, this was something he did not want to risk Albus learning of."

"What exactly were the damages," Molly Weasley asked.

"Aside from probably a hundred Ministry employees and at least twenty Aurors, the Minister and Mad-Eye were killed," James said tightly. Across the table, Remus wrapped Tonks in his arms as she shed silent tears for her old Mentor.

"It was all part of the plan," Snape explained. "With Pilliwickle dead, Leach is set to take over the position. As you'll recall, he's been under the Imperius Curse for several months now."

"Shit," James muttered.

"The Dark Lord feels that at this time it will be easier to control Wizarding Britain from the shadows. He could have easily taken the Ministry completely today, but the retreat was planned," Snape said. "He knew that the death of Alastor Moody would—shall I say—inspire the Aurors to push the Death Eaters from the Ministry."

Tonks made a choking noise and buried herself deeper into Remus's chest. Her husband grimaced as he asked, "The Dementors?"

"He took Azkaban right before the attack on the Ministry," Snape said, adding, "Because the operation went off as planned, he's given the prison to Bellatrix as a present."

"How lovely," Sirius hissed, and Lily squeezed his hand. Azkaban had previously been holding at least a hundred of Voldemort's followers. They were all released now, adding a swell to the Death Eater ranks that the Aurors would not be able to counter, not after their losses today. As the war dragged on, it was getting harder and harder to come by any who were willing to actively fight against the Death Eaters.

And now they had lost Azkaban. Although Lily had never been there personally, James had described it to her, and she couldn't really begin to imagine the hell it was to the prisoners locked inside. Despite what they were and all the terrible things they had done, Lily didn't like to think that anyone deserved to fall prey day in and day out to the Dementors. But now, the prison belonged to Voldemort, and it would serve as Bellatrix Lestrange's twisted playground.

"This is a very serious blow," Dumbledore said. "It will be very difficult to implement Leach as being a victim of the Imperius Curse and have him removed. Do you know what we might immediately expect from Voldemort, Severus?"

"He has not yet made his plans for the Ministry known," Snape said simply.

"You can bet that he'll be influencing laws and trials," James said. "In support of the pureblood manias, no doubt."

"Very likely," Dumbledore agreed. "We must be extremely cautious and watchful now." When he dismissed the Inner Circle, James immediately pounced on Sirius.

"What in the hell were you even down here for," he demanded. "There was nothing going on that you couldn't have been briefed on later."

"That's exactly what I said," Lily agreed as James went around to Sirius's other side and heaved him out of the chair. James looped Sirius's arm around his shoulder, and together he and Lily helped him to hobble back down the hospital.

As they left, Hermione took Harry's hand and asked, "Aren't you going with them?"

Harry shook his head. "Father is irritated enough with just the Potters hovering over him. He'll lose his temper if we go too." Hermione nodded, grimacing at the thick gauze covering Sirius's wound. It was completely soaked through with blood.

As the meeting was over and Harry had little love for anyone lingering behind, he pulled Hermione from the room and back down to the Black family suite. They were supposed to have moved back to Grimmauld Place that evening, but the attack on the Ministry and Sirius's injury would push that back another couple of days or so. Harry frowned. He was quite ready to leave Hogwarts. Like Sirius, Harry didn't like having to sit around on the sidelines, and he felt trapped in the castle.

Atria, finally a student at Hogwarts, was finishing up her lessons for the day, and so Hermione was safe to cuddle against Harry on the couch in the common room. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, and Hermione leaned her head against his chest. They sat in companionable silence for some time. "It's been a while since I've done anything with Ron and Neville," Hermione said, simply to say something. "I should go meet them for lunch."

Harry huffed, and Hermione laughed. "What?"

"I don't care for them," he said.

"Any particular reason, considering you've never given me a good one. And before you say it, being Gryffindor doesn't count."

"They are a Weasley and a Longbottom respectively," Harry stated.

Hermione chuckled. "They're your allies, whether they know it or not, in this war."

"And yet, you still haven't breathed a word to them about everything that has gone on between us," Harry said.

"When Sirius gives me the okay, I'll do it," Hermione said.

"You're still scared of Father? He doesn't want to kill you anymore," Harry said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I know that, but actually putting it into practice is a little more difficult. He's not the most pleasant of people, or reasonable. Look at what he did during the meeting. He should have stayed in the Hospital Wing. Lily and James were right. There was no business going on that he couldn't have been updated on later."

"Fine," Harry said, "I'll give it to you that Father is stubborn to a fault, but in his own way, he does like you. Or, at least, he approves of you."

"That's all I've ever hoped for in meeting my boyfriend's family, marginal tolerance."

"Don't be a smart ass," Harry said, playfully tugging one of her wayward curls.

Hermione leaned up and kissed his cheek. "You'll forgive me," she said.

"Don't I always," Harry sighed longsufferingly. "Salazar knows why. You don't deserve it."

"I could often say the same of you," Hermione countered.

"But we weren't talking about me," Harry retaliated. Hermione snorted. "Now, see, that's the exact type of behavior that keeps you only marginally tolerated."

"Oh, shut up," Hermione said, pushing off Harry, only to fall back as he reached up and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled her close to him, smirking as she put up a halfhearted attempt to escape his grasp. After less than a minute, she gave in, relaxing into the hold. Harry rested his forehead against hers, and they sat in comfortable silence, simply looking into each other's eyes.

Hermione couldn't help but remember that Harry's eyes were really a vivid green.

Pushing the thought forcefully from her mind—no one liked to bring up or really even think about the truth behind Harry's parentage anymore—Hermione sighed, "How much longer do you think this will go on?"

"What," Harry asked, wagging his eyebrows, "getting bored with me?"

Hermione blinked at him in confusion, but then she realized her wording had not been clear. "I meant the war," she clarified.

Harry's expression immediately turned somber and stiff. He was silent for several moments. "It's already been going on for so long, years before we were born, and that makes me wonder what's a few more years." He let out a nearly inaudible snort of breath through his nose, his eyes shut and brows drawn down tightly. "But that won't be how things go. I don't have that sort of luck."

Perhaps if it had been someone else, someone without Harry's destiny, speaking of the war continuing as a stroke of luck, Hermione would have seethed. But Harry had something terribly dark to face, and his success or failure would be what marked the end of the war and the decades of fighting.

He continued, "The end is coming. I don't know how soon. It could be days, weeks, or months. But it's near. For good or ill."

Hermione tightened her arms around his waist as his hand soothed down her wild hair. "You know that you won't be alone," she said. "I'll be right there with you."

Harry turned furious eyes to her. "Like hell you will," he growled. "You'll be nowhere near the Dark Lord when the fighting begins. If I have my way, you'll be in—in Australia where it's safe."

Hermione frowned. "I'm not going to run away like a coward," she said, ignoring the way her voice shook just slightly.

But Harry didn't. He picked up on it and used it. "You've only been in one battle. One short raid. And the worst of what the Dark Lord has to offer wasn't there. There were no vampires, no werewolves, no Inferi. And he wasn't there." He sat up, pushing her off him.

"You aren't cut out for war, Hermione, not like this. I'll hand it to you. You do astounding work helping the research divisions create new ways to protect the civilians and coming up with more efficient ways to use spells and even discovering charms and jinxes so old they've practically been forgotten. You've irreplaceable that way. But you can't fight. You can't get out there and do what needs to be done to survive in a battle. You can't kill someone."

Hermione's eyes steeled even as tears welled up. "Don't you underestimate me. You have no idea what I could do if I had to, if I was protecting the people I love."

"The point is that you shouldn't have to," Harry snapped. "None of us should have to, but you, you should never have had to see any of it." He reached up and wiped away a tear Hermione hadn't been able to contain.

"I'm a Gryffindor," Hermione said, her fists clenched and nails digging into her skin. "We're chosen for our bravery, but I feel like such a coward."

"If that's a stab at Slytherin," Harry started, hoping to lighten her mood, even just a sliver. He hated it when she cried.

Hermione let out a humorless chuckle. "No," she said. "I know many brave Slytherins. But, it's just that, well, look at the Order."

"What about them," Harry said, already knowing where she was headed.

"No one can deny that nearly every member of the Inner Circle is Gryffindor. And me, I'm the only member of the Circle that doesn't fight."

"Is it really what you want," Harry asked. "To be out there with the death and destruction? Do you want to watch your friends dying around you?"

Hermione shuddered. "No," she breathed. "I don't, and that's why I feel so ashamed."

Harry blinked oddly. "Now you've really lost me."

"The right thing to do would be to go out there and fight, fight to protect the people I love, and I want to do it. I want to make a difference so badly, but—but I'm scared to do it." She slammed a fist against her leg childishly. "All I'd have to do is ask, and Professor Dumbledore would put me on call, but I can't even bring myself to offer."

Tears began to flow from her eyes freely, and she pressed her hands against them to halt the flow. "You're right. I don't have what it takes, but I should. That's why I'm ashamed."

Harry pulled her to him again. "You want to make a difference? Weren't you listening to me? You are invaluable to the research groups. That's how you make your difference in the war. And perhaps it's selfish of me, but I'm glad you don't fight. I have enough people out there to worry about. I'd go insane if you were fighting too."

Hermione shook her head. "That doesn't make me feel any better, but I know you're trying, so, thanks," she said, glancing up at him with a watery smile. He kissed her forehead.

"I can't help but be so scared. There're so many people that I love right in the middle of this war, and others like my parents who could at any day be the innocent, ignorant Muggles that the Death Eaters target. These people I love could die at any time," Hermione said miserably.

"None of us have any guarantee to survive. One day, I'm going to wake up and it will be my last day alive. I won't even know it."

Harry grabbed Hermione's arms, almost roughly, making her look up into his eyes. Through his teeth, he growled, "You're going to survive. You have to because when all this is over, I'm going to marry you."

Hermione's jaw dropped, and she stared at him in utter shock for a couple of seconds that stretched on for a small eternity. Then, she broke herself from her frozen astonishment, launching herself at Harry and smashing her lips to his in a frenzied passion. He responded in kind, one arm wrapped around her waist to hold her as close to him as possible while the other hand buried in her curls.

After a couple of minutes on the cramped couch and an end nowhere in sight, Harry scooped up Hermione and hurriedly carried her into his bedroom.

* * *

The entire Weasley clan, along with many of their friends, was crammed into the Shell Cottage where Bill and Fleur had moved in together after their wedding. Just two days ago, Fleur had given birth to the couple's first child, an absolutely beautiful baby girl named Victoire, and the mother and daughter were coming home from the hospital. Although tired, both Bill and Fleur were still gushing from the birth of their daughter and had yet to stop beaming since first laying eyes on her.

Molly was almost inconsolable in her joy at finally having a grandchild, and Arthur had snapped so many pictures that even the beaming new uncles and aunt were considering hiding the contraption away for a few years. Victoire was passed around from person to person and gushed over at every instance. Even little Teddy grinned at her until his mother jokingly told him they could get married one day.

It wasn't much more than a week before Remus received Bill as a surprise visitor. Tonks was at work, and so Remus was watching Teddy, who was elated to see Bill and disappointed that Victoire wasn't in tow. Despite his scowling at his mother's teasing the day Victorie had been brought home from the hospital, Teddy had taken the shining to the baby girl that everyone else had and was entranced by her, despite that he couldn't yet play with her.

After pleasantries had been exchanged, Remus sent Teddy upstairs to play in his room. In spite of his young age, Teddy knew what grown up time was and he didn't question or complain when his parents sent him away from certain conversations.

"Since you didn't run in here screaming, I can gladly assume there's no emergency happening," Remus said, offering Bill a cup of tea.

The younger man took it and shook his head with a grin. "No, nothing like that," he said. "But I did come to ask some advice."

Remus nodded, motioning Bill to speak his mind. "Fleur and I have talked about things like this since we got the news she was pregnant, but, I don't know, I suppose actually seeing Victoire, actually holding her makes it all so much more real."

Remus nodded. He certainly knew the feeling.

"I've never felt like the war was some abstract thing that couldn't touch me or my family," Bill continued. "I know that I'm God damn lucky to have not lost anyone yet, and considering how many of us there are, the odds are that a Weasley goes down is higher than most families." Both men smiled humorlessly at the unfunny joke.

"So, I know that something could happen at any time, but now that my daughter is born, I can't help but be walking around in this panicked paranoia." Bill rubbed a hand over tired eyes. "I'm imagining things that aren't there, people specifically targeting my wife and baby when they aren't."

"I felt the same way after Teddy was born," Remus said sympathetically. "Their safety is all that I could think about."

"And I know that's normal," Bill said. "We'd be pretty poor fathers if we weren't scared to death about them. I'd ask Mom and Dad, but they weren't involved with the war like they are now when my siblings and I were kids."

He frowned. "I'm not beating around the bush here. Voldemort doesn't want either of us like he wants the Potters. They had to hide when Olivia was a baby. She could have been used against them at any point, and it would have worked." Remus's eyes darkened. Bill didn't know about Lily and James's first child—about Harry. He didn't know how exactly right he was.

"But you and me, Remus, he doesn't want us like that. Oh, I'm sure he'd be more than happy to see us go, but he's not going to come after us like he does them, and probably wouldn't bother using our families to get us either. Thank God." Remus nodded in agreement.

"But I still can't help but worry over it all the time," Bill said. "I feel like I'm going to go crazy doing it. What did you do?"

Remus's smile was something more like a grimace. "I didn't fare much better. I still get worried. I still lay awake at night worrying that one day I'm finally going to do something that gets enough Death Eaters mad that they go out of their way to target me. I still can't breathe when I Apparate home until I see that there's no Dark Mark above my roof."

Bill pushed back a wayward lock of hair that had escaped the confines of his ponytail. "So I'm doomed to a life of looking over my shoulder in constant worry and fear over my daughter?"

Remus chuckled. "That's the very definition of fatherhood, during war or peace. I'll have to consider myself lucky. I've got a son, so at least I'll never have to worry about boys coming over for dates."

Retaliating, Bill said, "Don't speak too soon, Remus." The older man grimaced at him for a second before they both laughed, this time with good humor. Bill rubbed the back of his neck, turning serious again. "Fleur and I've talked about it a bit. If things get any more out of hand out there, we're going to send Victoire to France to live with Fleur's parents. Neither of us like it, but she'll be safe there. Voldemort's greedy little hands are still clutching at England." He drew in a deep breath. "I wanted to extend the invitation."

Remus nearly chocked on his tea. "Excuse me," he coughed.

"You and Tonks are involved in the war even more than we are. And you're close friends with the Potters. I really am surprised that Voldemort doesn't give you more attention. I know the General—Sirius Black did." Bill shook his head a bit, and Remus understood. It was hard for people to understand the complication that was Sirius Black. People in the younger generations didn't remember all the things Sirius had done as an Auror before his capture and turning, and even the older crowd seemed content to forget and focus on the terror he'd caused as the Dark Lord's General. But now wasn't the time to contemplate such things.

Bill continued, "You're high up in the Order rankings. I won't ask how far, but I know it's way up there. And so I know that Teddy's in the same kind of danger that I'm putting Victoire through by fighting them. You're a good friend, Remus, and I can never really repay the help you gave me after my little run in with Greyback, but if I can help you keep Teddy safe, I'll do what I can. I'm pretty fond of the kid."

"Bill," Remus said, moved by the offer. "Don't ever think that you have to repay me. What I did—"

"Was that anyone would do," Bill finished. "Doesn't change the fact that you really helped me and Fleur after the attack. I know I don't have it anywhere near as hard as you, but I'll never not be grateful."

Remus reached over and placed a firm hand on Bill's shoulder. "Thanks for the offer," he said with all the sincerity he could muster into his voice. "I'll talk it over with Dora, but I hope to God I don't have to take you up on it."

"So do I," Bill said.

* * *

"What the hell does that mean," Harry asked sharply over Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione tightened her grip. "It means the same thing that all the other tests said," she said through her teeth.

Harry's dark frown stretched into one of near panic. "Are you sure it can be trusted? It was made by Muggles."

"Then what about those," Hermione asked, gesturing angrily to several other magical pregnancy tests scattered about the bathroom. All of them read positive. Harry glared at the tests as though he were trying to make them burst into flames with sheer willpower. "Damn it," Hermione hissed as she clenched her eyes shut to prevent the flow of angry tears.

"This is all your fault," Harry said soundly.

"My fault," Hermione screamed, rounding on him with a ferocious glare. "How is this my fault?"

"Aren't you supposed to be on a potion," Harry accused.

"They aren't completely foolproof," Hermione snapped. "And what about you? Would it have killed you to perform at prevention spell for once?"

"If I've never done it before, why start now," Harry asked.

"Well, it certainly doesn't matter anymore," Hermione wailed miserably. "We can have sex all we want without potions now! Who cares? Not like it would put another one in there." She practically wilted, and Harry sighed, reaching over to take her in his arms.

"I didn't mean any of that," he said tightly. "I'm just shocked. Really shocked."

"Like I'm not," Hermione huffed, but she softened. "I'm sorry too." She buried her face in Harry's shirt, letting the fabric soak up her tears. After a few moments, she asked, "What are we going to do?"

"Get married, buy a nice little house in the country, get a dog—ow." He frowned at Hermione when she pinched his arm.

"Don't joke," she ordered.

"Who says I'm joking," he countered. At Hermione's frown, he drew in a deep breath. "I meant what I said. I'm going to marry you. Whether it's today or a year from now, I don't care. This—this situation changes nothing."

Hermione squeezed him tightly in her arms. "Fine," she relented, smiling despite herself. "But you're telling Sirius."


	43. Legislation Askew

**My most sincere apologies to anyone out there who is still reading this. I have no good excuse for going so many months without an update and then giving you this short chapter. All I can say is writer's block and a severe lack of inspiration involving the Harry Potter franchise. **

**Please enjoy, and let me know if there are any horrible grammar/spelling errors. And please review! **

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**Chapter 43**

"ARE YOU INSANE," Sirius roared.

Hermione cowered as she sat on one of the fine couches in the parlor of the ancient Black family home. Beside her, back ramrod straight, Harry winced visibly.

It had been a couple of weeks since Hermione and Harry had discovered Hermione's condition, and they had only just gathered the courage to inform Sirius, along with Lily and James, for protective measure.

Needless to say, Sirius was furious. He had been screaming at them for nearly fifteen minutes straight at this point with hardly more than a second's pause to catch his breath. Lily and James had both tried to calm him down, but there appeared to be no reasoning with him.

"You would have to be insane to have allowed this to happen," Sirius continued on his rant. "You're too young. You're thinking with your twice-damned hormones, not even bothering to stop to consider the consequences of your actions. There is a war going on out there."

"We know that," Hermione tried to interject.

"Do you really," Sirius snapped. "Because if you had given the war any thought at all, you wouldn't have allowed this to happen. It's dangerous. It's irresponsible. It's stupid. How can you think it's a good idea to bring a child into the world at a time like this?"

"Remus—"

"Remus is an adult," Sirius stomped right over her words. "He understands what he's doing."

"We're adults," Harry argued. "We've graduated."

"Oh, you've graduated," Sirius sneered. "And so that makes you ready for everything the world has to throw at you? You didn't think this through. You are marked by the Dark Lord, Harry. He wants you dead. Your relationship with the girl already put her in peril. What do you think the Dark Lord will do now if he finds out that she's carrying your child?"

"There is no prophesy concerning—"

"That will not stop him," Sirius yelled. "Because you have insulted him, she has insulted him. And he will not spare an innocent child to get at you."

Hermione frowned, her hand tightly gripping Harry's arm. "We understand the dangers," she started, but Sirius rounded furious eyes on her.

"You understand nothing! You are too young!"

"We're the same age you were when Harry was born," Hermione snapped back. "You're a hypocrite! You have no right to yell at us."

"Don't delude yourself into thinking that you have any idea what you're doing, girl," Sirius thundered. "You have no clue. You aren't ready. You aren't prepared. That child has hardly even begun to exist and you've already place it in extreme danger. How do you ever expect to make it through this war, let alone parenthood, when you don't think?"

"Sirius," Lily yelled. "That is enough!"

Sirius turned to round on her, but James stepped forward. "No, Padfoot, she's right. Leave it alone." Sirius seethed for a full thirty seconds before stalking forward and grabbing James roughly by the arm. As Sirius hauled him from the parlor, James asked, "Where are we going? It involves fire whiskey, doesn't it?"

Lily shook her head, running a tired hand through her hair. Hermione, all her energy suddenly evaporating, slumped on the couch. She tried to hold it back, but after a few seconds, she was lost in a seemingly endless wave of tears. Lily dropped down beside her and wrapped her in a hug. "There, there now," she soothed. "It'll be all right."

"Why does he have to be such a-a-a jerk," Hermione wailed. Harry rolled his eyes at her emotional outburst, but he still patted her knee.

"He doesn't really mean to be," Lily assured her. "He did the very same thing when I told him I was pregnant with—" She stopped suddenly, and Hermione too glanced over at Harry. He was frowning darkly at the older woman. He stood abruptly and walked briskly from the room.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered.

Lily shook her head. "No, no, that was my fault," she said. "I forgot the silent agreement." They sat quietly for a moment before Lily continued, "I might as well say it now. That was how he reacted before, about Harry. It was very odd to be receiving a lecture about maturity and responsibility from Sirius, who at the time was having a contest with James for the world's most childish man."

Hermione let out an odd snort of laughter. Lily smiled, squeezing her shoulder. "He's just worried about you," the older woman said. "He's completely accepted that you're the woman his son wants to spend the rest of his life with. That makes you family. Sirius—when in his right mind—has never based his family off blood ties. It's the people who stuck by him, the people that he loves. He loves Harry with all his heart, and so that means he'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe." Lily then chuckled, winking, "Plus, he probably got so mad because he knows James will start making grandpa jokes."

"Despite the fact that technically this makes James one too," Hermione asked.

Lily waved dismissingly. "Irrelevant." Lily hugged Hermione and said, "Don't worry about this anymore, Hermione. He'll huff and puff for a while, but then he'll calm down, and when that baby's born, he's going to spoil it like there's no tomorrow. He'll forget that he ever took issue with it at all and will be thoroughly insulted if you insist that he did."

Hermione chuckled. "I wish I had known him before his family got to him."

"No, you don't," Lily said lightly, "not unless it's your fondest dream to live in a world where noses are often elongated and things get glued together and dyed neon pink."

* * *

There was never a lull in the fighting, in the destruction, or in the death. Ever since the capture of Azkaban, Voldemort had been striking with increasing frequency. In the span of a single month, three Ministers of Magic had been killed, two of them in broad daylight and in extremely public settings.

The Aurors and the Order were suffering. They couldn't get more people into the programs. No one wanted to be moved up any higher on the Death Eaters' hit list. Simply living was dangerous enough already.

The Black family had been moved back into Grimmauld Place a couple of months previously, Hermione taking residence with Harry. Her parents had protested that she wasn't married to him yet—never mind that she was pregnant with his child. Sirius was barely speaking to either of them, still furious over their lack of responsibility. And he had more important things to do than spend his time scolding kids over their stupid decisions.

It seemed like not a single day passed in which Sirius didn't receive a call to battle from Fawkes. And when he wasn't out fighting, he was continuing the hunt for the remaining Horcruxes. He was haggard, tired, constantly sore and bruised, but he pressed on. It was high time for this war to end, and he was going to see to that even if it killed him.

* * *

The official takeover was so quiet and subtle that it almost went unnoticed ever by the Order. When another Minister was killed, the replacement was a known victim of the Imperius Curse. For a couple of week, his ascension into the position of Minister was the only change within the government. The changes that came after were slow, specially designed to not alarm the general wizarding population.

The Order did everything they could to prevent the new laws, but they were thwarted at every turn. People had become little better than cattle, simply following what the majority did and never questioning the morality behind the new legislation.

Some departments were shut down, usually those headed by men and women who spoke out openly against the changes and against Voldemort. Some were even unfortunate enough to meet with mysterious accidents. So far, Voldemort had been smart enough to keep the Auror Division intact. It would have been a fatal flaw. The presence of the Aurors was sometimes all that kept the civilians from panicking.

But once Voldemort's power in the Ministry was consolidated, things began to take a drastic turn for the worse. It started with the Registration Act. All wizards and witches were required to officially present evidence of their magical heritage. Those with pureblood were not troubled further. They were practically given pats on the back for being outstanding citizens. Half-bloods considered themselves lucky. They had familial ties with which to present to the panel. They were frowned upon, but they were free to go.

The Muggle-borns did not fare so well. Now considered lower class citizens, they were required by law to wear a red band over the clothing of their right arms that labeled them as second-class citizens. Being a Muggle-born was cause for open scorn. Certain occupations were no longer open, and hundreds of people were fired from jobs that they had held for years without problem. Businesses owned by Muggle-borns were closed until permits could be obtained, but they were rarely given out.

It was becoming open practice to ridicule Muggle-borns openly. The term Mudblood was becoming less and less offensive in general conversation. Those who attacked Muggle-borns on the streets were let off with simple warnings—little better than a finger shaking from a parent that wasn't really upset but simply keeping up appearances.

Soon, laws were passed that prevented Muggle-borns from marrying either half or pure bloods. Some establishments began to forbid Muggle-borns from entry.

Within a couple of months, Muggle-borns were being accused of ridiculous offenses. Perhaps the most outlandish of these supposed crimes was the theft of magic. No one really knew what it was that allowed the child of two Muggles to become magical, and so the newest theory was that clever Muggles were simply stealing the magic from unsuspecting wizards and witches. No one seemed to recall that such a feat was not only utterly impossible but that it was ludicrous. During the hysteria of the witch-hunts hundreds of years ago, real wizards and witches had almost never been caught, but on that rare occasion, they had simply used their magic to outwit the Muggles. No one seemed to recall that without magical ability, a wand could not function. Squibs couldn't produce so much as a spark.

Nearly every Muggle-born accused of such offenses was convicted and sent straight to the Dementors, who fed off of them like leeches until finally administering the Kiss. Many had attempted to flee the country, but anyone going through official channels was stopped and accused of even more eccentric crimes. Patrols had been set up to look for border jumping, and those who tried to escape into the Muggle world were hunted down.

It chaos as had never been seen before during the war. Distrust ran higher than ever. Everyone was on high alert, suspicious of everyone they saw. Anyone had the potential to be a Death Eater, or at the very least a Voldemort sympathizer. But the ordinary citizens were too afraid to do anything to stop the disorder they saw unfolding around them. Stepping up was a death sentence. To sympathize with Muggle-borns was a good as being a Muggle-born. Such individuals were accused of conspiring to take down the government and aiding the Muggles in their thievery and magic-hunting ways.

* * *

It was midnight, the witching hour. It was the perfect time for magic. It was the perfect time to meet.

The Inner Circle of the Order of the Phoenix sat around the round table deep in the confines of Hogwarts. As had King Arthur so many centuries ago, Albus Dumbledore believed that for men to be men, they must first be equal. There was no doubt that he was the leader of the organization and that he made the final decisions, but Dumbledore was not the sort of man who made his decisions rashly or without consideration of others. He already asked so much of these people who had put faith in him. He could not, in good conscience, ask the things he did of them without taking into account their opinions and inputs.

His older members knew these things well. They had been there for years, decades, fighting along side him. Some, like James Potter and Sirius Black, had perhaps fought even more than Dumbledore himself. James and Sirius went out into battle at every call, when even Dumbledore could not. Dumbledore placed a very great deal of trust in those two men.

James was almost unflinchingly loyal, both to the man and the cause. Really, the only times he had ever seemed to oppose Dumbledore had been back when Sirius was under Voldemort's control. James's loyalty to Sirius was completely unwavering. James had recognized the danger that the General had presented to the general public and to the Order, but James had always done everything in his power to remind Sirius of who he had been. He had fought constantly to bring Sirius back into the fold, and his success had been a substantial blow to Voldemort's cause.

Sirius, on the other hand, had changed significantly since the early days of his involvement in the war. After graduating from school, Sirius had signed up for the Auror program and had been a full time fighter in the war. He had been much more like James back then, completely faithful to the cause, ready to follow where Dumbledore led, ready to do what had to be done to protect thousands of people he had never even met.

But Sirius was different now. His loyalty to the cause had been renewed, but his devotion to Dumbledore was shaky at best. He trusted the old man to be a leader to the Order, to be a symbol for what they were fighting for. But he didn't trust Dumbledore to think of the individual. After he had prevented Regulus from seeing Sirius—which had resulted in Regulus's sacrifice to destroy the Horcrux—Sirius had drawn a line. The constantly lingering mindset of the General had made his faith in Dumbledore precarious enough. That had been it.

Sirius did not blindly follow plans. He challenged them, changed them, and did whatever he saw fit to get his job done the way he thought it should be. He had spent twenty years calling all the shots on the battlefield for the other side. He didn't need Dumbledore breathing down his neck at every turn as had been frequent in his younger years.

Last to arrive, as was usual, was Severus Snape. He slipped into a seat beside Minerva McGonagall, and Dumbledore began the meeting. General business was covered first. The discussed the death toll, who had died that they knew. It was done almost dispassionately. But that was necessary. They couldn't afford to become emotional over each and every one of the fallen. There was a time and a place to mourn, but this was not it.

They went around the circle of the table, each member relaying his or her report in their area of expertise. It was everything that was expected. The Aurors were swamped, trying desperately to hold the tattered remains of their world together. Death Eaters in the Ministry were countering all endeavors for anyone else to be productive in the war effort. Prisons were filling up with so-called traitors and conspirators.

Perhaps the most disturbing topic discussed was that of the newest derangement to hit the hysterical populous: Muggle hunting. Sirius frowned at the very uncomfortable expressions on the faces of his fellow members. He pushed down that darker part of him, the part that hardly saw any problem with the game at all. Fleetingly, he thought of his aunt Araminta, who had once tried to push for the social acceptability of the sport. She'd have loved this.

"I sent a message to my sister," Lily said. "For all the good it'll do." Lily had never made too much of a secret the distain that existed between her and her older sister. Lily had done her part by warning Petunia of the danger, and it was now up to her whether or not she would heed the severity of the situation or not.

Hermione, seated one down from Sirius on Harry's other side, gnawed at her bottom lip. "I sent my parents to Australia," she said quietly after a moment.

Harry glanced down at her, a brow arched. "And they went quietly," he asked. It was obvious that she hadn't said anything about it previously to him.

Her cheeks tinted pink, she shook her head. "I—I Obliterated them and made them think that they didn't have a child. They'll be safer that way." She blinked, moisture having pooled in her eyes. Sirius saw Harry's hand reached to grasp hers under the table.

"Oh, Hermione," Lily said, in an odd voice that was both scolding and understanding.

"I know that if—when I find them again, they're going to be furious with me," she said, "but they don't have any way to stand up to Death Eaters. And I can't just leave them out there. They hated being locked in the house when Sirius—" She trailed off, her face now a vivid red. Her eyes darted over to Sirius.

Sirius was well aware of how nervous she still was around him. He'd heard others attempt to reassure her. They were right to some extent. He certainly wasn't out to kill her anymore. He wouldn't do that to his son, who had fallen in love with the girl for whatever reason. But just because he didn't want to kill her didn't mean that he was looking to greet her with open arms at every opportunity. She was a valuable ally, and if he was honest with himself, she had grown on him just a bit.

But right now, she, along with his son, were immature, irresponsible, complete and utter morons. With whom he was not speaking.

Alleviating the situation slightly, James said, "We understand, Hermione." He turned to the rest of the gathered members. "Muggle hunting isn't illegal, so there's really not anything that we can do to stop it. We're trying to push the legislation through, but just like everything else, it's not getting anywhere."

"Keep trying," Dumbledore encouraged each Ministry employee. "Get reasonable people, people who won't back down to gain support to stop it."

Discussions continued for some time, well into the late hours of the night. Finally, the meeting was adjourned, Sirius and James remaining behind to continue planning the destruction of the Horcruxes with Dumbledore.


	44. Second Thoughts

**Oh wow. I haven't updated this story since September. I'm so sorry to anyone still reading. Once again, all I can say is that I haven't had any inspiration in this fandom. Every once and a while, I'd open up the file and try to get something written down, but nothing would come, which is endlessly frustrating when I can manage to get 70+ pages of a plot bunny that will never see the light of day written in a sitting or two. Well, unfortunately, this chapter is rather short. I thought about combining it with what I have planned for the next chapter, but it would make everything seem even more rushed than it will be. If all goes as planned, this story will have 52 chapters, so less than ten to go. Hopefully it doesn't take me another year to get there. **

**As usual, please forgive any spelling/grammatical errors, unless they are atrocious, and in that case, please inform me of them. Also, I know I don't deserve it after not updating in so long, but please review. I would really like to have some feedback on this story. It would help me stay motivated to finish it. Enjoy.**

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Chapter 44**

The war effort was nothing short of a travesty.

Bellatrix Lestrange glowered over battle plans and reconnaissance reports. In all of her years serving as one of the Dark Lord's generals, she had never had to become so involved with planning. It was not her forte, and her Lord wisely gave her duties that she more excelled at, namely attacking their enemies and uncovering intelligence from prisoners.

Bella was not a squeamish woman. The painful screams that seemed to come straight from the souls of her tortured victims had never bothered her. The blood, the bruises, the death, none of it concerned her. In fact, she enjoyed it. She enjoyed making those who opposed her Lord suffer for their traitorous ways. They deserved everything she had to throw at them and more.

But she was not able to give those duties her fullest attention, not since the Potters and Dumbledore had stolen her younger cousin away from the ranks of the Death Eaters. For over twenty years Sirius had been their shining star. He had been a spectacular second-in-command under the Dark Lord. He had finally become everything that his family knew him capable of being. But the Potters had taken him and twisted him again.

It had left a gaping hole in their ranks. Sirius alone was worth a large handful of lesser wizards. His talent had been extraordinary, and he was intelligent and cunning. He was a ruthless leader. He had done what was needed to win battles for his master.

It had once been Sirius, along with Lucius Malfoy, who had crafted the battle plans for the Dark Lord. They had arranged all of the details and saw to the almost flawless execution of those plans. Not to say that Lucius wasn't clever, but he was no Sirius, and without the General, nothing was running as smoothly.

Yes, since Sirius's capture, the Death Eaters had both captured Azkaban and taken the Ministry. But those missions had been sloppy at best. They had been retaliations for what the Potters had done to Sirius and his family. The Dark Lord was not pleased with the loss of his General, and he was certainly not pleased that the Order had also taken young Harry.

That was a very sore subject for the Dark Lord. The theft of the boy from his birth parents so many years ago had been a most glorious achievement. The boy had been their hope, their secret weapon of sorts. But Sirius had ripped that hope from them, taken it all away in plain view. The continuation of the war had been so futile after that. They had simply been delaying the inevitable.

But now Sirius was gone, Harry with him.

It was troubling to say the least. Harry was devoted to his father, his loyalty to the Dark Lord stemming from the loyalty to his father. But now that Sirius had been taken, Harry was no longer among the ranks of the Death Eaters. He was with the Order. All those concerns from decades ago were resurfaced.

Bella was infuriated with the injustice of it all. How long had they all been playing this game? It was high time for the Dark Lord to emerge victorious. There were many on whose shoulders Bella placed blame, but she reserved a special venom for their supposed spy Severus Snape.

Others had been telling Bella for years that Snape was playing his part perfectly, that he was in the Order under the Dark Lord's orders. He was supposed to be playing the part of a double agent. He was supposed to make Dumbledore think that his allegiances lay with the old man and his band. He was supposed to reveal tidbits of the Death Eaters' plans to the Order to further convince them of his sincerities. And how sincere he must be! They had taken the Ministry and Azkaban with little trouble.

Bella, however, wasn't buying it. For years Snape had been in the perfect position to end Dumbledore and other high ranking members of the Order. And now, he was in prime position to end the life of Harry Black, rendering the threat to the Dark Lord void once and for all. But it never occurred. Snape never dealt a fell blow.

It drove Bella crazy. She knew he wasn't with them, she just knew it. But she had no proof. Her concerns were always dismissed. The Dark Lord had forbidden her to speak of it anymore. Lucius and Narcissa ignored her. Rupolphus only still listened because he was frightened of her temper.

But Bella knew that Snape was playing them all for fools. And she would prove it, if it took all of her energies, she would get the evidence she needed to make her case to the Dark Lord. And he would praise her for exposing the traitor. He would love her for showing him the truest nature of this slippery, poisonous snake.

* * *

Narcissa sat in the elegant parlor of her husband's manor home. She ran her hands over her robes, smoothing out creases that weren't there. Lucius sat across from her, his back ramrod straight, his hands clenched tightly over his knees, the fine fabric wrinkling. It was silent in the room, a suffocating sound that was finally broken by one of the house elves bringing in a tray of tea. The noise the creature created seemed exceedingly loud following the heavy silence.

It was often like this, heavy, heavy silences laying over the entire manor. That is, when the Dark Lord wasn't hosting his meetings within their dinning room, scores of Death Eaters moving in and out. But when those Death Eaters had left them, silence descended once again.

The Malfoys were careful to remain in this state, hardly daring to make the slightest noise for fear that it would draw attention to their home once again. They almost never spoke amongst themselves, not entirely trusting that their words would were entirely secret between them. And in times like these, in their positions, it would be most unwise to have doubts.

Narcissa could not stand it. She felt she lost a little more of her mind each day she was forced through this routine of silence and uncertainty. There had been a time—years ago, although it seemed so fresh in her mind—that hadn't thought twice about the war. Certainly, she was concerned for those of her family who fought—sisters, cousins, husband and son—but there had been a time when she been so sure of the outcome of the war and of her opinions and allegiances. She had known, without doubts, that it was the right of the pureblooded wizards to triumph over those blood traitors and mudbloods. As a member of such prestigious and distinguished families, it was their right to rule over the masses, to stand above, a shining example of excellence. She had known that her family's pureblood propaganda was correct. She had known that the Dark Lord would triumph, and he would reward his loyal followers.

Once, she had known all these things. But she did not think she knew them anymore. She wasn't sure she was ready to admit that purebloods were no better that mudbloods—surely there was something to having had stayed pure for so many centuries—but she was beginning to wonder whether or not it had been wise to put all her faith and trust in the Dark Lord.

Narcissa was a woman who held the notions of family in great esteem. She hadn't particularly wanted to cut all ties with her elder sister when Andromeda had run off to marry the mudblood Ted Tonks, but the offense had been deemed unforgivable. And when cousin Sirius had been returned to the family, his mind altered to mirror their beliefs, she had not approved of the methods, but her pleasure at his return had outweighed her concerns.

But again Narcissa's family was in shambles. Sirius, along with his children, had gone with the Order. Bellatrix was so devoted to the Dark Lord that her master could have been torturing her, and Bella would stand on shaking legs to profess her undying loyalty and love even as the curses rained down upon her. And Regulus, dear little Regulus, he had disappeared, his wife and children soon following. Narcissa couldn't be entirely sure what fate had befallen his family, but Regulus was dead—the Family Tree had confirmed it months previously, before Sirius had taken back the ancient Black house and barricaded it against his former allies.

And so Narcissa had to wonder, how could she possibly remain faithful to the cause of the war when it ripped her family apart? The strain between her and Lucius was near tangible, and Draco was distant, always looking over his shoulder, utter paranoia written across his features.

Narcissa's teacup hit the saucer just too hard, and the clinking of the china seemed so loud that Lucius's head snapped up. His expression suggested that her noise would have disastrous results, as though they had been hiding from a stalking enemy and she had given away their position. "I hate this," she said, her voice so low that it would normally have not carried, but it seemed deafening in dreadful silence of the house. "I hate whispering in my own home as though we are being spied on."

"We could very well be," Lucius hissed back.

"We have given no indication that we should be watched," she countered. "We have shown nothing but loyalty."

"Why should that stop him," Lucius asked, his tone carefully masked but the look in his eyes bitter.

Narcissa's grey eyes stared at the ornate mantle across the room, glazed and nearly unseeing. "I wish it was over," she said.

"It will be soon," her husband answered, but his voice held no confidence.

"How long have we been saying that," Narcissa asked. "Years, decades, before we were married, before we were even out of school?"

"There were unforeseen complications—"

Narcissa's head snapped back to stare incredulously at him, her hair flying wildly. "Complications," she snapped, her voice nearly thunderous. "Complications? That is what you call this?"

"I'm sure that in the beginning the Dark Lord never intended to find an enemy in an infant," Lucius said. "I'm sure he never intended to find the Order so resilient. Dumbledore, the Potters, even Sirius, they should have all been taken care of more quickly, yet they still live."

"That is my cousin of whom you speak," Narcissa said warningly.

"You must remember that he is our enemy now," Lucius implored, his eyes darting about the room as though he expected an eavesdropper to appear at any moment. "The Dark Lord wanted him back, but it's been too long. He can't be changed again. His loyalties have returned to the Potters."

Narcissa clenched her eyes closed against frustrated tears. She hated Lily and James Potter for taking Sirius away from them. Why couldn't they have let well enough alone? Sirius belonged with his family, to those with whom he was connect by the purest of blood. But they had stolen him twice.

Whilst leading the Dark Lord's troops, Sirius had been ruthless and feared. He had been efficient and deadly. Jobs had gotten done under his watch—with the exclusion of a few choice assassinations. Had he remained with them, perhaps the job would have been finished by now. The Dark Lord's terrible reign would be complete and cemented, but at least all of this would be over.

"He is still my cousin," Narcissa said though he teeth. "He is still my family."

"And what do you say of your sister Andromeda," Lucius asked. "What of her daughter?"

Nymphadora Tonks, half-blooded Auror and member of the Order. Narcissa had never met her niece. Andromeda was off the Tree, and the girl had never had the chance to be written there. To associate with them would have been improper, so, being the good daughter that she was, Narcissa had never made the efforts and had thwarted all of Andromeda's.

But being blasted off the Tree did not change the fact that Andromeda had combined her precious Black blood with that of a mudblood. And Nymphadora had gone on to take an active stand against the Dark Lord. And she had married a werewolf, reproducing with him.

All of it was an assault to decent pureblood sensibilities, so, of course, Bellatrix had taken offense and had acted on it. When she wasn't muttering under her breath about Severus Snape's supposed disloyalty, she was actively stalking the Lupins, looking for opportunities to strike. A number of the werewolves under the Dark Lord's command had been borrowed to help in Bella's mission. Greyback, the one who had originally turned Lupin, had been more than willing to help finish the job.

"Andromeda made her choices," Narcissa said slowly.

"As has Sirius," Lucius insisted. "Narcissa, I understand, I really do. You don't want your family torn apart. I know how important it is to you. But this isn't something we can change. We—we have made our choices as well. Now we must suffer the consequences."

That horrible silence fell over the once again, each staring off at some far wall, not really seeing it. "Sirius has left," Narcissa said a few moments later, her voice low. "Regulus is gone. Were they—were they right?"

"Narcissa," Lucius hissed, his eyes wide with alarm.

But his wife did not heed his warning tone. Eyes still glazed as she stared ahead unfocused, she continued, "Regulus is dead, we know this. He didn't die in the service of the Dark Lord, for we would have known the circumstances. And Megara and his children are gone. The Order is hiding them, I know it. Regulus left the ranks, deflected."

"We don't know that," Lucius said. "We don't know what happened. And deflection is highly unlikely. Think, Narcissa. If he had turned traitor, the Dark Lord would not have kept it silent. He would have made an example of him. We would have all known exactly what his fate was."

"Maybe—maybe the Dark Lord was not aware," Narcissa said, grasping at straws. "Maybe Regulus found something, some way to defy him, but was killed."

"You aren't making sense," Lucius said. "What could he possibly have been doing? What good would his supposed defiance do if the Dark Lord wasn't made aware of it?"

"I—I don't know," she said, close to tears. "I just—I just want to know what happened to him, to know that he died for something! I hate this, Lucius. I hate all of this. I want this war over. I wanted it ended. I don't care how anymore. I just want it ended. This is no way to live, always looking over our shoulders, walking on eggshells for fear that it might be our lives sacrificed if the Dark Lord is in a foul mood. They never have to fear that. If Dumbledore is angry, he does not kill his Order!"

"Narcissa, please," Lucius tried.

"Our son, Lucius," she continued to wail. "How could we have done this to Draco? How could we have put him in such danger?"

Lucius hung his head. "It all seemed so clear in the beginning," he admitted. "It seemed it would be over quickly."

"Draco, Harry, all the other children, they have never known peace," Narcissa cried. "And it is because of us. We let this go on."

"What do you propose, Narcissa," Lucius snapped. "That we make an attempt against the Dark Lord?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he fell silent, his expression horrified. They both sat frozen, waiting, as if at any second someone would jump into the room and strike them down for the threat against their master.

"It can't be done," Lucius whispered. "He can't be defeated."

"Not by us," Narcissa said. "But perhaps—"

"That is enough," Lucius said. "This conversation has lasted too long already." Briskly, he stood, leaving behind his teacup as he swept from the room. Narcissa watched him go, knowing that protesting would not bring him back.

He was right; that conversation had been dangerous. But she had to say. She would have gone insane if it had been bottled up much longer. She knew there was no chance. For all the purity of her blood and the high social status she enjoyed, Narcissa was a fairly average witch. She certainly was intelligent, having faired well in both her O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s, but she did not share the prodigious talents of her eldest sister and cousin. Bellatrix and Sirius had always been above and beyond the rest, truly something to behold when they performed magic. But she, she was nothing special. Lucius was talented, though not as remarkably as Bella or Sirius. The Dark Lord's power outstripped all theirs. There was no question. Even if they had the daring, even if they worked together, Lucius and Narcissa would never be able to bring down the Dark Lord.

But they did not have the daring. Even as she wished she were not in his service, Narcissa knew she didn't have the courage to leave the Dark Lord's fold. Sirius, her Gryffindor cousin, he had done it and had not looked back. Regulus, she was certain, no matter what Lucius said, too had left. He had not often expressed it, but Narcissa knew that her youngest cousin had looked up to his older brother. She had not before realized how much so.

Of course, she could be wrong. Regulus could have died in some secret mission for the Dark Lord, one to which even Lucius was not privy. Maybe Megara had decided that enough was enough, collected her children, and fled the country, leaving her in-laws completely in the dark as to her fate. It was possible, and more likely, than the notion that Regulus, who was Slytherin through and through, had decided to follow in the footsteps of his rebellious brother and had met his demise in secret defiance against the Dark Lord, leaving Sirius to take his widow and fatherless children under his protection among the Order.

But Narcissa clung to that wildly impossible thought. It was all she could do now, to have some glimmer of hope that this would all somehow work out and that they would see it through to the end, coming out alive and unharmed and maybe one day forgiven for their crimes.


	45. Traitor Exposed

**And once again I take forever to update this story. Almost a year this time. I am so, so sorry to anyone who's still following this. And I apologize for what seems like a rushed chapter. I really want to get this story finished, but it's like pulling teeth getting it on paper.**

**As usual, please forgive any spelling/grammatical errors unless they are egregious, and in that case, please point them on. I would really appreciate some feedback on this to get me motivated to finish. Thanks and enjoy.**

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**Chapter 45**

It had taken years, years of careful planning and patience. Bellatrix was not an entirely unreasonable woman. She knew that she had a violent temper and a questionably precarious grasp on it. She knew that she was not patient, that she sometimes unrealistically expected results immediately. But in this instance, this plot, Bella had shown the patience of a saint.

For years Bella had been telling anyone who would listen that she believed Severus Snape's truest loyalties lay with the Order of the Phoenix. No one had listened. No one had been willing to see what she had seen.

Bella would admit, Snape had played his part well for so many years. Nearly the whole of their world was convinced that he was a Death Eater, despite that there was no concrete proof. It seemed that those in charge of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—namely James Potter and the late Mad-Eye Moody—were particularly talented at losing evidence.

Snape's performance was flawless. Bella really couldn't give a concrete answer as to why she didn't trust him. It was a feeling, deep and instinctual. If she considered it logically, her wariness made no sense. If the Dark Lord trusted him, then who was Bella to go against her master? He had killed loyal servants for less.

But none of it mattered anymore. Bella had finally found the evidence, the incontrovertible evidence that would damn the traitor.

Bella's request for a private audience with the Dark Lord was granted quickly enough. It was not an unusual occurrence, after all. And she was among his most trusted, one with whom he shared his greatest secrets.

The Dark Lord had constructed a fantastic palace on Azkaban, one worthy of his majesty. Bella was nearly always on the island. The Dark Lord had given it to her, and it was a grand and wonderful token of his great affection for her. It was her domain. She was able to do as she pleased here. All of the prisoners were hers, to be played with at her leisure. The Dark Lord let her have free reign, and with no one to stop her fun—no Aurors or Order members knocking on her door—it was a truly horrific nightmare for those who had ever dared to deny her master.

And so, when she received word that the Dark Lord would admit her, she was only a brisk walk across the island from him.

Bella breezed into his throne room with all the grace that her esteemed upbringing and heritage bestowed upon her. She shut the great wooden doors behind her with a sharp _snap_. The room was dark, as it always was, illuminated only with torches that lined the walls. It was the perfect ambiance, the darkness providing the mystery and subtly illuminating the great power that her master wielded.

Bella bowed low before the throne on which the Dark Lord sat, her eyes downcast. She would not look at him until he allowed her that honor. It seemed an eternity that she was left waiting before his beautiful voice said, "Rise, Bella."

As always, a shiver of delight went up her back at the sound of that nickname. Oh, of course, others—dear and not so dear members of her family—used that name, but it was different when the Dark Lord said it. She was the only one that he bestowed such an honor upon. She was the only one he referred to so familiarly. There was a touch of formality with all the others, but never with her.

Bella stood, her back tall and straight, as she looked to her master. Coupled with that shiver of delight were the skip of her heart and the quickening of her breath. In any other, this might have been a sign of fear, but not with her. Never with her. Bella loved her master, loved him so dearly that even on the rare occasion that he turned his wand on her, Bella could not feel even the slightest animosity. She was not perfect, after all, not like her master was, and if he saw fit to correct her behaviors with pain, then who was she to judge? If he decided to punish her, it was with good reason. It would help her to become a better servant to him. That was all that she wanted, to be the best that she could be for him, to help him to achieve the greatness that he so deserved.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company," he asked, and Bella—despite her mature age—could have squealed with all the delight of a schoolgirl. But she pushed down the temptation, schooling her expression to remain calm. It would not do to get over excited and annoy her master before she spoke her piece.

"I come to speak to you about Severus Snape, my lord," she said, ducking her head when her master's lips twisted into an irritated frown. "Please, my lord, just let me say this one last time, and never again will I bring it up."

"You've been harping on this matter for years, Bellatrix," he snapped, fingers tightening over his wand. "Never has Severus given any indication that his greatest loyalties lie elsewhere."

"Proof," she said hurriedly. "This time I have proof!"

"Now, Bellatrix—"

"A patronus," she cried, and immediately she was hit with the Cruciatus Curse. Falling to the floor, Bella screamed in agony. The Cruciatus was her favorite of the Unforgivables to dish out upon her victims, but she herself was no stranger to it being cast upon her. She had felt its searing pain many times, but it was the Dark Lord's curse that was the most horrific. It was only when the curse rained from his wand that she ever considered that death would be better than those moments of hell.

The curse was suddenly lifted, leaving Bella twitching on the floor, desperately trying to pull herself to her feet, that she might prove her strength to her master.

"Patronus, you say," the Dark Lord asked curiously. It was not exactly a common spell on a Death Eater's most-used list. It was an advanced piece of magic, the embodiment of light magic, used for fending off Dementors. But the Dementors were under the control of the Dark Lord, and he did not want his followers shielded from the effects of the dark creatures. He wanted them to feel the cold grip on their souls, a very pungent reminder of the hell that would await them should they disappoint him.

"Y-yes, my—my lord," she stammered, her knees shaking under the folds of her dress. She clenched her hands into tight fists in attempts to hide the way they twitched.

"We know well that the Order has great use for the Patronus Charm," the Dark Lord said. "Had it not occurred to you, dear Bellatrix, that Severus made it a point to learn this spell so as to secure his position within the Order?"

"It is a doe, my lord," she said, bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught of the curse.

But the pain did not come. Bella stared wide-eyed at her master and was shocked to see that he seemed to be contemplating her words. This was it, she nearly cried in relief. She was finally being taken seriously.

"A doe," the Dark Lord repeated faintly.

"The same as Lily Potter," Bella continued. "Lily Potter, who Snape was most friendly with during school."

The Dark Lord's blazing eyes were narrowed. His great snake slithered around his feet, tongue flickering out. The snake seemed to have a special connection to its master, more so than what could be expected of a common animal. It seemed to reflect upon the Dark Lord's moods, and at that moment, it seemed most agitated.

"Call him to me, Bella," the Dark Lord said. "Immediately."

Bella did not hide her elation as she bowed, hurrying from the room to collect the traitor and bring him to his final punishment. Finally. Finally!

* * *

A doe, Voldemort considered as Bellatrix slipped from the room. A doe.

He had seen the Patronus of Lily Potter many times throughout the course of this war. He was no stranger to the sight of that silver doe. Nor was he a stranger to the sight of that very doe running alongside a silver stag, the Patronus of her husband.

Lord Voldemort did not care to perform the Patronus spell. Oh, he was sure that he could produce a most magnificent Patronus if he so chose, but what point would it serve? It was a waste of energy. The sole purpose of the Patronus was to protect the witch or wizard casting the spell from the effects of the Dementors. Dementors did not affect Voldemort as they did other lesser beings.

Lord Voldemort did not cast Patronus Charms, no did he expect his followers to. But Snape, there was a benefit to him using the charm. Voldemort could clearly see that. It would further ingrain him into the Order. It would show that he was one of them, to use it as they did. Yes, Voldemort could overlook that, but a doe?

He did not cast the charm, but he knew things about it. He knew that a Patronus took on the form of an animal, an animal that was significant to the caster in some way. Thus, this animal could change forms. Lily Potter's was a doe because her husband's was a stag.

And Snape's Patronus matched Lily Potter's.

Severus Snape had once professed great affection and longing for Lily Potter. He wanted the woman for himself. He had gone so far as to beg his master to spare her life after bringing news of the prophesy to Voldemort. Kill the man and kill the baby, but spare her life. As a reward, Voldemort had though to grant the young man his request, had his plans not changed with the capture of Sirius Black.

Severus Snape still loved Lily Potter.

Love, that ridiculous emotion, that foolish notion that Dumbledore so often preached the merits of. Lord Voldemort did not understand it. He did not see its purpose. What could love possibly do? What could it possibly accomplish that power could not? What chance did it have to stand up against strength and might? It was moronic to put hope and trust in love.

He knew that. But did Snape? How much did Snape love Lily Potter? Did he love her enough to betray his master? Did he love her so much that he had never fully been on Voldemort's side to begin with?

These were chances that Lord Voldemort would not take. The war had gone on for too long already. He had been resisted for far too long. All because of Snape.

No more.

* * *

The news came from the guards at the gates to the school. There was a body, and the headmaster should come immediately. Dumbledore had been with some of the top members of his Inner Circle, James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius. They followed down.

There was a body, sent no doubt by the Death Eaters. Sirius imagined they would have dumped it right in the school courtyard had there been a way to get through the wards. The walk—or near light jog—down to the gates seemed to take forever. A body. Whose? What friend had been taken this time? They had no received any word of a kidnapping, not one so significant that the body would be deposited on their doorstep.

There was a group of Aurors standing guard, more than was usual at the gates. They had obviously come to see what the commotion was. Dumbledore's voice was soft, but commanding, telling them to step aside. And what they saw burned into their memories.

Lily's eyes stared in absolute horror for an instant before she spun around, burying her face into James's chest as she shook with silent sobs. James's arms came up to embrace her automatically, but his attentions were focused solely on the mangled corpse before them. Remus's face was drawn and green, his body convulsing just a little as he fought back the impulse to vomit. Even Dumbledore was staring with an appearance of blatant, repulsed astonishment. While the part of him that was Gryffindor gaped in horror at the sight before him, the expression playing on Sirius's face was merely one of minimal curiosity and interest.

Severus Snape.

They had left his face mostly intact, or, at least, intact enough for them to identify the body immediately. But no other part of him had been spared. Bruised and cut and mangled and hacked. Bella's handiwork, no doubt, from deep in her playpen in Azkaban. He could see that his cousin had had a great deal of fun before the final blow was delivered. She had hated Snape, never trusted him and his commitment to the cause. She would have poured out all of her vengeance into his torture and killing.

Although that Light part of him was withering, not with mourning, he would say, but with disgust, he noted silently that he had seen worse. He had done worse. A small, strangled and grief-stricken noise escaped from Lily, and James drew in a sharp and shaking breath, drawing Sirius from his thoughts. With an almost casual wave of his wand, a sheet appeared and draped over the body. Sirius knew that the image would never leave Lily's mind, but at least now she would not have to look upon the actual thing.

Sirius's movement seemed to stir the others from their shock. Dumbledore moved first, swinging his own wand to levitate the body, bringing it with him onto the grounds and in the castle, no doubt to the back rooms of the infirmary. The others followed at a slower pace. Remus looked dazed, glancing around the grounds as if unsure what was happening. Lily hardly seemed able to walk, and James was supporting most of her weight. Sirius walked on her other side, ready to catch both of them if need be.

This was going to be extremely difficult for Lily emotionally—Sirius still needed a few minutes to process what this was going to mean for all of them and the war effort. Lily counted Snape among her dearest friends. They had known each other even before coming to school. Snape had been the one to tell Lily that she was a witch. They had remained friends despite the difference in their Sorting. Of course, they'd had falling out in fifth year—courtesy of James and Sirius picking on Snape as they were so want to do—but their friendship had been renewed and strengthened by Snape's turning spy for the Order all those years ago.

Sirius was positive that Snape was still in love with the woman, but it was one of those things that just wasn't talked about. She was with James, and that wasn't going to change, so Snape took what he could get in the form of friendship, and everyone kept to the status quo.

Jesus Christ, what in the hell were they going to do now?

* * *

**I know. I didn't actually write Snape's death. I can't really write from his point of view (he's an awesome and complicated character that I just can't nail), and that's the only way I'd want to write him kicking it. I apologize for that, and for the rushed end of the chapter. **


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